


The Rat and the Stag

by HK44



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Marauders' Era, Polyamory, Slow Build, Universe Alteration, fyi the other pairings are lowkey this is centered around peter and james
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-27 14:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10026116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HK44/pseuds/HK44
Summary: The first time Peter officially met James Potter, he was eleven years old and nervously tucked into Remus’s side. Remus was also eleven and just as tucked into Peter’s side, though less nervous and much calmer. At the time, James was just as old as they were, if not a month or so older than Remus and two months or so younger than Peter, and was attached to Sirius, who was still ten and hanging off of James’s arm.





	

**FIRST** **YEAR**

The first time Peter officially met James Potter, he was eleven years old and nervously tucked into Remus’s side. Remus was also eleven and just as tucked into Peter’s side, though less nervous and much calmer. At the time, James was just as old as they were, if not a month or so older than Remus and two months or so younger than Peter, and was attached to Sirius, who was still ten and hanging off of James’s arm.

It was the first week of October, a month into the school year, and James was already known as the first year who’d tried to ride the giant squid, Sirius was known as the first year who tried to hex his new best friend so he’d get eaten by the giant squid and Remus was known as the exasperated first year who was trying to get his new friends to stay still for five seconds at the very least.

No one knew who Peter was. Which made sense, he supposed. The only person he’d manage to befriend so far was Remus. Remus, who was kind and nice and wanted to introduce Peter to his other friends so the four of them could hang out and generally get along nicely.

Peter didn’t really see the point in having more than two friends and since Mary was sitting next to him more often and Remus was already his friend, he was pretty sure he was set.

Remus didn’t agree.

“This is Peter,” Remus said quietly, patting Peter’s back.

“Cool,” Sirius said bored.

“Hullo, Peter,” James said, slinging an arm out. Slipping off, Sirius fell in a dramatic pile onto floor and Peter tentatively took James’s hand, one eye on Sirius who was sprawled out, groaning. “Nice to meet you. I’m James.”

“Remus, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” Sirius whined. He reached out for him. “Help me.” Remus ignored him, instead wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulder.  Sirius swatted at James’s ankle. “ _Jaaaames_ , why isn’t Remus helping me?”

“Probably because you’re a git,” Peter muttered before anyone else could say anything and there was a beat of choked silence before Sirius was gaping up at him like an offended bird.

Beside him, Remus twitched, on the verge of a laugh, before stiffly saying, “Peter.”

James just howled.

“ _A git?_ ” Sirius snapped, shooting up. He whirled on James. “James _\- James, stop laughing!”_

James didn’t stop, just fell into a giggle fit, heaving over with gasping breaths as laughter shook through his body. Remus squeezed Peter’s shoulder happily and Peter relaxed enough to crack a low grin.

Until Sirius swirled around vigorously and _glowered_ at him. Then Peter was as tense as a piece of rope in an evenly matched tug-of-war game. A venom to his voice, Sirius hissed out a _pissed_ “You half-” and panic overcame Peter’s whole body so before Sirius could finish whatever vile threat he was about to make, Peter punched him in the face.

James immediately started choking on laughter again. Remus was frozen in shock while Sirius went down and sprawled out on the floor.

Peter pressed his hand to his mouth. _Oops_.

“I’m sorry!” he said quickly, reaching out for Sirius who swatted him away and rolled over. “I didn’t mean to do that!”

“You _punched me in the face_ ,” Sirius hissed and blood was dripping over his mouth. “ _Agh_.”

“You kind of deserve it, Sirius,” Remus said, helping him up.

Sirius squinted menacingly at him. “Once you get me to Madam Pomfrey, we are no longer friends.” He glared at James who was still doubled over with laughter. “Same goes for you, _Potter_.”

James grinned loosely. “Ah, he got you good though.”

“He punched me in the face!” Sirius snapped, leaning heavy into Remus’s side.

“I’m sorry,” Peter insisted. “I just panicked.”

“C’mon,” Remus urged, pulling on Sirius. “Before you die of blood loss.”

“If I die, I’m coming back to haunt you, Peter!” Sirius called out.

Peter buried his face in his hands as they walked away. Oh, that was embarrassing. Peter didn’t like his fight-or-flight instincts. They were usually just the quick consideration of what would remove him from a situation as soon as possible and then going through with it without much else thought, which was always bound to get him into trouble. Most of the time it was running away from perfectly safe places. One time it was standing so perfectly still the people he was trying to avoid just thought he was a statue of some sorts.

Evidently, this time was simply punching Sirius in the face.

He groaned. Well, Remus’s plan for the four of them to be friends was obviously tanked. He’d punched Sirius who was _not_ going to be friends with him now and James was Sirius’s best friend…

Peter frowned and glanced up at James who was leaning against the wall and staring into space.

Why was James still there?

“Um…”

James turned him and grinned widely. “That was a really good shot.”

Peter narrowed his eyes and glanced away. “Um… thank you?”

James shrugged, still smiling and standing there instead of scowling and running after Sirius. “It was! I could never have gotten him like that.”

Peter clasped his hands together and pointed at James. He waited a moment, hoping clarity might sink in but when it didn’t, he just frowned more and said, “What?”

James scratched his nose, bumping his glasses funny on his face. “We made a pact that if Sirius says something pureblood-y or whatever, then we can punch him or slap him or spray him with water.” Fixing his glasses, James grinned wider. He was missing two teeth, one from his top and the other from the bottom, and it was oddly _cute_. “He ducks away a lot so I’ve never gotten a solid smack. But Remus got him with a pitcher of water before dinner last Tuesday so it worked out.”

Well, that explained why Sirius walked into the Great Hall, sopping wet, the week before.

“Oh,” Peter said faintly, dropping his hands to his side. “So you’re not _mad?_ ”

“Course not!” James chirped, slinging an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “We’re trying to get it out of him so he can be a better person!” James swung around and gripped Peter’s shoulders, grinning mad and wide. “And you can help!”

Peter paused. “Me?”

“Yes!”

He scrunched into himself and asked, weakly, “Help you?”

James nodded happily. “Yeah, you can hit him when he’s going off on the bigot crap.”

Peter frowned. “It was just a lucky shot-”

“Yeah, but then you can help us pin him down for smacks so it still works.” James frowned and said in a deep, serious tone, “Sirius is very squirmy.”

Peter paused for a moment and then nodded. “Okay.”

James smiled wider. “Great!” He wrapped Peter hug in a big hug and kissed him slightly on the cheek before tugging him off to the Common Room.

Peter smiled and let himself be pulled away.

Okay. He could do this.

He could have friends. **  
**

 

* * *

 

 

 **SECOND** **YEAR**

After a frantic glance around to confirm that Frank and Remus were _not_ in the room, Peter quickly kicked the door shut behind him and dumped his books onto his bed with a loud _thud_.

From James’s bed, Sirius glanced up at him, mouth rolling open with a lazy, “What are you doing?” on the tip of his tongue.

Peter cut him off before he could finish. “I think I know how we can help Remus,” he said, breathlessly excited.

James eyed him. “With what?”

Shifting through his papers, ink marks smudged and barely drying, Peter said, “With the full moon!” He snatched up a paper and grabbed the corresponding book. “Okay, so Animagi-”

“Wait,” James said. He shifted around to face Peter. “What do you mean? What’s Remus’s issue with the full moon?”

Peter stared at the two of them. “You know. His “furry” problem,” he chuckled. The humor died inside of him as the two kept staring back at him. He frowned, going right out with it. “He’s a werewolf.”

There was a brief pause of silence, the two of them taking in what he’d just said, and then-

“A werewolf?” Sirius said. His voice was incredulously loud. Laughter bit off the edges of it and Peter cowered at it. “Seriously, Peter?”

“I-”

“I mean, I know you’re a little wired but _come on_. Remus? A _werewolf_?” Sirius laughed, nearly buckling over with the weight of it, shaking through him. “How thick can you be to think that?”

Bitterness shot right to the back of Peter’s throat. Bile churned in his stomach. He felt stuck and exposed like a flopping fish in the bright sun. There were reasons Peter didn’t like being called on in class. He didn’t like being wrong. The humiliation that followed had a tendency to _burn_ him.

Blinking back the heat that welled in his eyes, he frantically started grabbing at his papers. His theories. His research.

Months gone down the drain because…

Because he thought they _knew_. Thought they’d had figured out what he had. But no. No, they didn’t. And if they didn’t, then how in name of Merlin’s smelly underpants did he?

Simple. He didn’t. He was wrong. Remus wasn’t a werewolf and Peter was just a moron who spent six months sneaking into the Restricted Section and “subtly” asking McGonagall about Animagi and how to become one all because he thought he could _help_.

Help what? Obviously there was nothing to help. Remus was fine, Peter was an idiot and for the billionth time he was left wondering why they even bothered to keep him around.

“Peter-” James started, his giggling cut off, but it didn’t matter.

Fed up, Peter shoved all his things into a bag and ran out of the room.

Careening into the common room, Peter made a beeline for the portrait hole. The doorway slung open quickly. Remus stumbled in front of him, hands shooting up. “Whoa!” He paused, leaned in close. “Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Peter grumbled stiffly. He ducked around his friend and disappeared out the portrait hole.

Remus followed quickly after him. “Hey, hey.” He grabbed Peter’s arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Peter hissed, squinting at Remus through blearily wet eyes. He wrenched his arm out of Remus’s grasp. “I’m fine.”

“Sirius said something again, didn’t he?” Remus said bitterly. An angry look overtook what was normally a calm disposition and he looked off towards the common room. “I’m gonna punch him.”

Peter snorted. “He didn’t say anything.” He rubbed at his face. “It’s fine. It’s nothing.”

“Peter!” Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Sirius and James’s voice overlapped each other, growing louder with each step. Trepidation crept down Peter’s spin, tense and cold. “Peter!”

They stumbled into view, Sirius nearly crashing into James. Remus stepped in front of Peter, protectively. “You made him cry!” he accused and Sirius winced.

“Um-”

“I told you to stop doing that!”

Peter could count on one hand the amount of times Sirius had made him cry which left him to wonder what Sirius was saying about him behind his back to make Remus have to tell him to _stop_. _Nothing good_ , he thought sadly.

Tugging on the back of Remus’s shirt, he whispered, “Remus, it’s not that big a deal. Let’s just-”

“No,” Remus said darkly.  He marched up to Sirius (James had long since ducked out of the way, no keener bent on becoming a direction of Remus’s anger) and prodded him roughly in the chest. “Peter was my friend first and I _said_ to stop making fun of him or _I was going to punch you_!”

“But it was ridiculous! I thought he was joking!” Sirius protested, backing up as Remus raised his fist.

Remus scowled. “What was it?”

“Um.”

“What. Was. It.”

Sirius glanced pleadingly at James who shook his head rapidly. Peter swallowed thickly, throwing himself under the bus to save Sirius’s scrappy butt. “I said you were a werewolf.”

Remus whirled on him, eyes wide and frantic. “What.”

“I-” Peter scuffed his feet to the ground. “I said that I thought you were a werewolf and- and I’d come up with a way-” His voice cracked and he looked away from them. “I thought I came up with a way to _help_.”

Merlin, he was _pathetic_. Couldn’t even get through a sentence without bursting into tears for the billionth time.

Such a baby.

No wonder Sirius made fun of him.

“You think I’m- you think I’m a werewolf?” Remus asked, voice unusually high. “Why?”

Peter looked at the ceiling. “Because I’m stupid,” he said lamely.

“Peter-”

He shook his head. “Look. I’m just. I’m just going to put my books back and then throw out all my stupid theories and then can we pretend this never happened?” His voice was _beyond_ begging. Desperate wasn’t even a word to even _loosely_ describe how he felt. He just wanted to put this whole ridiculous episode behind him.

Remus opened his mouth like he was planning on saying something but then paused before nodding his head slowly at the last minute. “Okay,” he breathed after a while.

“Thank you,” Peter mumbled and he walked off to the library.

Alone.

\--

Weary, Peter pulled the curtains around his bed shut and pulled his blankets far over his head to block out the hissing whispers coming from James and Sirius. It didn’t help much but the more he wrapped into himself, the more he disappeared under his blankets, the safer he felt.

Until James yanked open the curtains and dove in beside him.

He startled and shot up, eyes wide and his fat little fist planting firmly into James’s face before clarity could kick in.

James went sprawling out of the bed, swearing loosely.

“What the hell?” Peter hissed.

“I wanted to ask you something,” James grumbled, holding his nose. “Move over.”

“James?” Remus perked up from where he was giving in to a little before-bed reading. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” James said sharply. He planted himself on Peter’s bed and yanked the curtains closed, washing them in darkness. Quietly, he settled down beside Peter who was still wondering _why the fuck James was in his bed_.

“Why the fuck are you in my bed?” Peter hissed.

“Shh, Petie,” James said, pushing his hand to Peter’s mouth. “Wanted to ask you something.”

Peter scowled. “If it’s about what I said earlier, I’m going to kick you.”

“Well, in that case…”

Peter kicked James’s side. “I asked you to forget about it.”

“I know, I know,” James huffed. He pushed himself up the bed, sitting up with Peter. “I just… I dunno, I wanted to ask _why_. Like.” He gestured loosely. “Why?”

“Why what?” Peter grumbled, feeling bitter.

He snuggled down into his blankets and turned away. James draped himself on top of Peter irregardless. His head fell near Peter’s and Peter squeezed his eyes shut, burrowing further and further down into his sheets.

“Why did you think Remus was a werewolf?” James asked quietly.

“I don’t remember,” Peter lied, voice muffled into his bed.

James grunted and flattened himself onto Remus’s side. “Peter.”

“James.”

They stared at each other, Peter’s mousy brown eyes matching James’s dark, dark ones. Finally Peter peeled his view away and frowned, pulling his blanket over his head.

James huffed. “Pete.”

“Shuddup,” Peter snapped. Weakly he kicked at James. “Go away.”

“ _Peter_ ,” James pleaded and Peter felt worse.

“James,” he said sharply, yanking his blankets back. “Please stop.”

James bit his lip. “I just-”

“I don’t care,” Peter interrupted, squeezing his eyes shut. “Just stop.”

“’M sorry,” James mumbled after a moment. He shifted up. “I’ll stop.” Rolling out of the bed, his feet bumped soundlessly against the floor, curtains billowing against his back. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Peter’s head. “Night, Petie.”

Pete swallowed and gave in.

He snatched James’s sleeve and tugged gently. James grinned low and wide but settled right back into the bed. Wrining his wrists, Peter sighed. He spoke low. “He- he always _leaves_. Around the full moon. Gets sick a lot too. I was worried it was some kind of disease or something so I started keeping track. To see if there was a pattern.”

“Was there?”

Peter nodded loosely. “Yeah.” He swallowed, listening out for the other boys but all he heard were Frank’s quiet snores and the sound of Remus silently berating Sirius for the billionth time about how _people just do not climb into other people’s beds, Sirius, get the fuck out_. “He- He gets really moody a week off the moon, like _sad_. I think because he knows it’s coming and it makes him miserable. He gets really sick as the moon gets closer and then he’s usually out of commission the day of and then a couple days after. And then whenever he got back from-” Peter frowned. “- _wherever_ they put him, he’s usually really happy. Weak but pleased.” Peter fiddled with his hands. “Probably because it’s over and he doesn’t, doesn’t have to deal with it again.” Peter shook his head. “Until the next month.”

He scratched along his cheek. “I also looked up werewolves and such and he fits all the symptoms. Irritability along the full moon. Feeling weaker. Morbid. Depressed.” Peter sighed. He never liked it when Remus got all miserable and pouty but he’d felt better when he had a _reason_. Course, now that reason was bollocks so he was back to feeling too much sympathy for his friend’s unexplainable misery. “Plus, when Snivellus was talking about the recent attacks by Greyback, Remus got mad, remember?”

James nodded. “Yeah, he said that not all werewolves were evil.”

“Mmm.” Tired, Peter shrugged. “But it’s all hogwash, isn’t it?”

James shook his head. “No, it makes a lot of sense.” He frowned. “I dunno how I didn’t see it.”

Peter squinted at him. “James, if _you_ didn’t notice and _Sirius_ didn’t notice, then it’s safe to say I was _wrong_.” He pressed his hand to his cheek. “Maybe Remus is just on his period.”

“Yeah, but _that_ doesn’t happen on the full moon!” James protested at a whisper. “Also Remus isn’t a girl!”

“Maybe he has girl bits,” Peter suggested. “My mum has a friend that has boy bits but she’s a girl.”

James frowned. “Okay, um… okay.”

“So there,” Peter said. He patted James gently on the arm. “Now go away or go to sleep but either way, we’re never talking about this again.”

He rolled over and curled into himself.

James spooned him. “But what if you’re right?”

“I’m not.”

“But what if-”

“Oh, fine!” Peter snapped, shooting up and snatching open the curtains. “Remus, are you a werewolf?”

There was a beat of quiet before Remus weakly replied, “Um, yes.”

Peter snorted and turned to James. “ _See_?” He frowned and turned back to Remus, what his friend has said finally swirling through his head. “Wait, what?”

Remus squeezed his hands into tight fists and peeked over at Frank who was still sleeping. “I _am_. I, I just didn’t know how to tell you. Or- or if I _should_. And- and I’m not-” He glanced between the three of them, Sirius slackjawed and James draped over Peter in quiet shock. His eyes finally settled on Peter. “I’m not _bad_.”

“I know,” Peter said quietly.

“ _Werewolf_?” Sirius hissed.

Remus slapped him with a free pillow. “Keep your voice down.” The four of them glanced over at Frank. Still sleeping, soundly. “Frank?” Remus tried.

Frank didn’t answer. Just quiet, snuffling snores.

They all relaxed.

“I cannot _believe_ you didn’t tell us,” Sirius huffed, clearly offended. “We’re your friends!”

Remus scowled. “Right, because _I_ was going to tell the people who thought that werewolves were supposed to be _discarded_ of or thrown in Azkaban for just existing that I _was_ one.”

Sirius flushed. “I didn’t,” he started just as James began, “Remus-”

Neither of them finished their thoughts, eyes falling downwards, ashamed.

Peter rubbed his thighs. “You could’ve told me. I never said anything like that.”

Remus smiled gently. “I was,” he said. He shifted off the bed and pushed James out of the way, wrapping his arms around Peter. “I was,” he repeated into Peter’s collarbone. “Especially when you figured it out, I thought-”He sighed and pulled back. “I thought to myself that if you _hated_ werewolves, you would’ve said something and since you felt _bad_ , I wanted to tell you that you weren’t wrong.

“But then someone-” He levelled his eyes at James. “-wouldn’t leave you alone long enough for me to _explain_.”

James scattered back, eyes darting away from them and hands rummaging through his hair, embarrassed. “I wasn’t- I mean, I just wanted you to know we were still _friends_ , despite- despite us laughing at you.” Peter arched an eyebrow. “Which was wrong,” James said quickly. “And I’m very sorry. That I laughed.”

Peter turned to Sirius and gestured at him. “And you, Black?”

“I do hate you sometimes, Peter,” Sirius huffed. Peter grinned, pleased. “I’m sorry,” Sirius apologized lamely. “For laughing at you and saying you were wrong.”

“And?”

Sirius scowled. “You were right.”

Peter grinned even wider. “And?”

Sirius glared at him. “I was wrong.”

“Thank you,” Peter said dramatically. “It takes a very big man to admit that they were wrong. Even when they’re _always_ wrong.”

Sirius lunged at him and Peter went flying into James, who knocked right off the bed and onto the floor. “You little-”

Sirius wasn’t the best in a fight, at least not yet, but his main move was tickling. Which he did with great joy.

Peter erupted into a fight of giggles, drawing himself in. Sirius wriggled his fingers light and rapid against Peter’s stomach.

“Re- remus!” he shrieked, kicking at Sirius and getting his legs pinned. “Save me!”

“No thank you,” Remus said quickly, skirting out of the way and off Peter’s bed. “Good night!”

“REMUS!” Peter shrieked again, laughing too hard and too loud. Sirius grinned wicked and shimmied his fingers up to Peter’s neck. Peter wriggled uselessly against the assault. “Jah- _mes_!”

James gave a battlecry yell and threw himself right at Sirius. They both went tumbling to the floor. Frank jerked awake as the thump sounded. “Oi! I was _asleep!_ ”

Sirius and James were too busy rattling out their fisticuffs to bother with him. Sirius caught James around the neck and jumped onto him. The sudden weight carried James right back to the floor. Sirius banged his head against Peter’s bedframe.

“ _Ow_ ,” Sirius moaned.

“Great!” Frank snapped, cuddling right back into his bed. “You lose. James wins. I sleep!”

“Ugh, why do I always get hit in the head?” Sirius hissed, rubbing his forehead.

“Because you’re a git,” Peter said proudly and Sirius scowled.

“You’re lucky I’m in too much pain to slap you,” he huffed, dramatic and flushing his hair over his shoulders.

“James would protect me,” Peter said simply. “Plus my best friend’s a werewolf,” he added at a low whisper.

Remus laughed gently, smiling at him. James stuck both hands in the pockets of his pants and grinned, loose and wild. “I would,” he said, far too gently and far too firm to be joking and Peter frowned a little, amused and confused.

“Good,” Sirius huffed, swaddling right into Peter’s bed and cuddling with him. “Because once I’m awake, he’s gonna need protecting.”

“ _You’re_ gonna need protecting, if you keep bloody talking!” Frank yelled, hurling his pillow at them.

Peter laughed, feeling light and warm for the first time since the day began.

He glanced over at James, who was still watching him, an odd look to his pretty eyes.

They grinned at each other and the world felt _warm_.

 

* * *

**  
**

**THIRD** **YEAR**

Athletic ability was never Peter’s strong suit. He could fly on a broom well enough to pass the class and run fast enough with the situation called for it, such as when they were almost eaten alive giant spiders in the Forbidden Forest. He couldn’t do a cartwheel and he couldn’t do a backflip and climbing up was never the issue so much as climbing _down_ was. Sometimes he tripped over his feet when he was hurrying and he once broke his hand while gesturing too broadly.

Honestly.

But at least he wasn’t as bad as Sirius who once attempted to punch a fifth year and somehow decked himself instead or Remus who once tripped going _up_ an inanimate staircase.

James, on the other hand, was the only member of their group that seemed to be untouchable by bad athleticism. He was gifted. He never stumbled, never tripped. Never got his head stuck between a bannister somehow like Sirius had done twice.

It was fucking ridiculous.

But it did grant him almost immediate access to the Gryffindor quidditch team when they saw him playing in a small round against Remus, Peter, Sirius and Frank, the latter having been dragged into it because James was too good against the three of them alone. Even with Frank, who’d played on a little league team for six consecutive years, he was still too talented.

While not being interested enough to try out on his own, he went to tryouts at the insistent behest of the team, made the team as a chaser and had been training religiously for the last eight weeks. And now it was the first game of the season. Gryffindor against Hufflepuff.

They were waiting in the changing room. The Gryffindor team was outside, going through a final warm-up. In the event of James’s first game and his more than apparent nerves, they let him sit it out. Remus and Sirius had wished James luck before vanishing out to the bleachers to finish up their prank against the Hufflepuff supporters, as either revenge for a Hufflepuff victory or as an obnoxious “HAHA WE WON” in the event of a Gryffindor victory.

“Nervous?” Peter asked. He’d decided to stick around, just to make sure James didn’t puke or anything and to secure an alibi for the aftermath of the prank.

Frankly, he was getting a little bit too tired of cleaning out bedpans.

James made a vague noise, ducking his head. “No,” he finally said, _lying_ as though Peter couldn’t spot one the moment it left his mouth by this point in their relationship.

“James,” Peter sighed, brushing James’s hair out of his face.

He’d grown it out during the summer just to piss off Sirius, who’s own locks had been gently brushing his shoulders since their second year and who was obsessed with proper hair care. Sirius spent about ten percent of their time complaining about the mess that was James’s hair and had conspired with Peter about ways to get it to be _flat_ and _smooth._

So far none of their attempts had worked but Peter always found James’s hair… attractive on him. It fit him. Fit his face, his height, his personality. Wild and unkemptly polite.

Now that it was long, brushing down against his cheeks, it was a wilder mess than normal. He looked like he’d been electrocuted about two percent of the time and just naturally insane the other ninety-eight. For the game, he’d gotten Mary to clip it back for him but it didn’t help the short sprouts of hair that sprung out into his face.

James didn’t seem too bothered by them.

“When are you going to cut your hair?” Peter asked, trying to drag James’s attention away from his nerves.

James glanced at him and his hand went to his hair immediately. “You don’t like it?”

Peter shrugged. “I mean, it looks fine on you. I just thought you’d like it shorter. All your pictures have short hair.”

James frowned. “Well, I mean, do you, um, do you think the girls like it?”

There was something odd in the way he asked that but Peter couldn’t tell what. He frowned, thinking. “I dunno. You look kind of insane, mate.”

“So you don’t like it?”

Peter shook his head. “No, I mean.” He sighed and looked at James. “You look- you look nice. I just think.” He frowned. “I think shorter hair suits you better.”

“But you like Sirius’s hair,” James said flatly, tugging at the clips in his hair. “You said long hair was sexy.”

“For Sirius,” Peter explained, wondering how the hell James remembered Peter’s sleep-deprived comment from _two years ago._ “Short hair is better for you. But that’s my opinion and it’s nothing versus your own preference and- What are you doing?”

James was yanking the clips out of his hair. “Cutting my hair off.”

Peter blinked. “What.”

James pushed the clips into Peter’s hand, took a step back and eyed himself in the mirror of the changing room. He brought his wand up to his face and muttered something under his breath. Quickly and following the movements of his wand, James’s hair sheared off, falling to his shoulders and brushing off his back to the ground.

In seconds, it was horribly and significantly trimmed.

Peter blinked again. “What.”

James dusted his hair off his back and frowned. “My mum does this so much better.”

“What in Merlin’s name just happened?” Peter asked again, lost and confused. He pushed Mary’s clips into his pocket, stepped up close to James, who eyes suddenly darted around nervously, and then slapped him right across the face. “WHY DON’T YOU HAVE ANY GODDAMN IMPULSE CONTROL?”

James grabbed his cheek. “ _What the fuck, Peter?”_

“YOU DON’T JUST CUT YOUR HAIR OFF BECAUSE SOMEONE SAYS IT DOESN’T LOOK GOOD ON YOU, YOU MORON,” Peter yelled, swatting at James again. “Have some damn _sense_.”

“You _just_ said-”

“I DIDN’T MEAN YOU SHOULD CUT IT OFF NOW.”

Honestly, having the friends he did meant spending ninety percent of his time worrying about them like a nervous mother hen. James had no impulse control, did whatever stupid thing came to mind, Remus couldn’t be stopped when he got an idea stuck in his head, like when he decided to get rock music to _blare_ whenever someone said the words “rock”, “and” or “roll”, and Sirius was just Sirius.

They were all damn disasters.

“Why are you like this?” Peter moaned into his hands.

“You don’t like it?” James questioned nervously.

Peter grabbed his face. “I want you to think things through before you do them. Please. It would lift the strain off my shoulders significantly.”

“Um, okay.” James frowned. “I thought you liked my impulses.”

“When they’re not stupid!” Peter said, swatting James’s arm. He eyed James’s face. An expression half pitched between amusement and disappointment was keeling on his face and Peter was annoyed.

“So what about me isn’t stupid then?” James asked, leaning against the wall and eying Peter with a joking seductive air.

Peter snorted. “Nothing,” he replied dryly. “You’re a complete moron all of the time.”

“I think my grades would disagree with you there, Pete,” James countered sourly.  He pushed away from the wall. “I have to have good points too.”

“Why are we having this conversation?” Peter muttered but James’s eyes were wide and desperate so he frowned and thought about it. “You have good hair,” he said after a slow moment.

James scowled. “But you just-”

“No,” Peter cut in. He stepped close to James and lifted his hands, brushing them through James’s hair softly. Bits of black fluttered to the growing mound the ground. “It just looks nicer when it’s short. But it’s soft regardless,” he said quietly. “Kind of how you’d imagine a cloud feeling.”

James swallowed loudly. “Anything else?”

Peter let his hands drag out of James’s hair and down his face. His thumbs slid over James’s eyebrows. “These are good too.” He moved down and squeezed James’s biceps. “Nice arms.”

“Strong,” James clarified and Peter nodding, thinking of what else to get James’s ego up.

“You’re smart and you’re nice.” He patted the side of James’s face. “You’re a good person, James. Deep down though.” He took a step back and glanced towards the sound of oncoming footsteps. “Outwardly, you’re just kind of a prick.”

James snorted and bumped Peter’s arm. “Way to ruin it,” he complained with a fluster in his voice.

“Oi,” Griselda said through the doorway. “Game’s about to start, Potter. Let’s get a shimmy on, shall we?”

“Yeah, be there in a second, Gris!” James called back.

She nodded sharply and disappeared back out to the pitch.

James shifted agitatedly. Peter nudged him. “You’re going to do fine, James.”

“I am,” James agreed. He bit his lip. “Just wish there was a way to guarantee it.”

“Like how?” Peter drawled, walking slow with James to the doorway.

“Good luck kiss?” James laughed, not looking at Peter.

Peter paused. “Okay.”

Turning to stare at him, James exhaled sharply. “What?”

Peter didn’t give him a chance, stepping up to the tips of his toes and bringing James’s face down for a quick smooch on the cheek. He patted James’s back reassuringly. “Good luck.”

“Um.” James laughed. “Ha, would’ve thought it’d be on the lips,” he teased.

Peter shrugged. “I promised Mary my first kiss.”

“Oh,” James said, sounding just the tiniest bit put off by that. He scuffed at the ground. “When?”

“First year. In the middle of Charms.”

“Why?”

Peter shrugged. “Who knows why,” he sighed, turning around to leave. “All I know is she gets back from winter holiday and the first thing she tells me when she saw me in Charms the next day was that she had to be my first kiss and if she wasn’t, she’d riot.”

“Af-after the holiday?” James said, swinging back into the doorway to Griselda’s screeching dismay. “She made you promise that after the holiday?”

“Yep,” Peter said. He shrugged. “I don’t know why but I’m not going to renegade on a promise. Especially not to Mary. Who knows what she’d do. To me or to whoever I kissed before her.”

“Tell her that I’d like to talk to her after the game,” James said with a strange edge to his voice and no explanation to his demand.

“Okay,” Peter said slowly just as Griselda marched by and yanked James away to the pitch. “Well then.” He stared at the empty doorway, hearing the boom of the announcements overhead, before turning away and muttering, “I need normal friends.”

 

* * *

**FOURTH** **YEAR**

Peter was sitting in the common room, curled up in an armchair near the roaring fire and going over his Charms essay for the billionth time. There was something missing, he could feel it in his gut, but he just couldn’t _see_ it. Maybe he could get James to go over it for him.

As though the boy had heard his plea, James stumbled in through the doorway, nearly tripping over the dip down as he always did. Snow melted in his hair and he was rubbing his hands together harshly. Brown eyes darted across the room. Peter gave a small wave. James grinned wide, nodding in acknowledgement to those who muttered his name as he passed by on his way over.

He kept smiling down at Peter. “You look like a marshmallow.”

“S’warm,” Peter muttered, burying the bottom of his face into the neck of his sweater.

James snorted. “Scoot over.”

“What?”

“Over. I wanna sit.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “There’s a good spot over there,” he grumbled, inclining his head over to the couch.

“This spot’s better,” James insisted, squeezing himself in beside Peter. He pulled off his water-splattered glasses and wiped them off on the edge of Peter’s sweater. “Besides, I’ll see them better from here.”

“So they’re coming up then?”

“Mmm,” James hummed. He ducked his face into the crook of Peter’s neck, nose cold. Peter shivered but didn’t object to the contact, wistfully sinking into James’s side. “Give it a minute or two. That your essay?”

“Yeah.” Peter shifted to get a bit more comfortable, feeling James slink an arm around his waist. “Can’t figure out what’s missing though.”

“I’ll go over it later for you,” James promised and Peter smiled softly.

“Thanks.”

James didn’t say anything, just grinned wildly and glanced over at the doorway. The portrait entrance swung open, the breeze shaking the tiny twig of mistletoe they’d stashed there earlier. It had taken months of researching just to get the charms down pat, forcing people to stay stuck until they’d kissed each other. The charms also allowed for kisses on the cheek or the hand or anywhere, in the event they weren’t comfortable kissing on the lips.

That had been Peter’s idea and James had been loudly appreciative of it, not having thought about the varying comfort levels or the age differences that might have occurred between anyone who got stuck underneath one.

Frankly Peter just wanted it to be a fun prank. Making sure people stayed comfortable and didn’t have to kiss their cousin that was three years older than them was important in that. And it had been so far. No one seemed to mind aside from the fact that they’d be a few seconds late to class. McGonagall and Flitwick had been more than amused when they got trapped on their way into the dining hall.

Still the real targets of their mistletoe shenanigans hadn’t even bothered to _try_. Sirius and Remus, who’d been making googly eyes at one another since _May_ and who could rarely be seen without the other at his side, hadn’t gotten stuck _once_. Which was annoying to the say the least since that had been the real intent of setting this whole thing up.

Peter had, on more than one occasion, tried to talk Remus into, at least, telling Sirius he liked him, if not asking him out directly and James had done the same with Sirius but both seemed stupidly insistent that the other had no interest and, well, James and Peter _wanted_ them to get together already but they weren’t going to be dicks about it and reveal things that weren’t any of their business.

So, no.

Attempting to get them stuck under the mistletoe was the best-case scenario.

Hastily stepping into the common room, Lily rubbed the sides of her face. Behind her, Mary crept in, peeling her mittens off with her teeth. And then Sirius’s head bobbed in, Remus at his side as predicted. They tried to shift further but couldn’t.

They were stuck.

“Mistletoe,” Mary pointed out, gesturing at it with a soggy mitten. “Smooch time, boys.”

Sirius flushed and Remus ducked his head, rolling on his heels. “Uh-”

“Oh, just do it!” James called out and Peter snorted. “C’mon!”

Flustered, Sirius sputtered for a second before Remus swallowed thickly, slapped on a good pound of Gryffindor courage and surged up, grabbing the sides of Sirius’s face and pulling him down. They kissed for a good three seconds before pulling away, panting slightly.

“You-” Sirius blinked rapidly like he wasn’t quite sure what happened. “You kissed me. _On the mouth_.”

“You kissed me back!” Remus protested. He was still holding Sirius’s face.

“I did,” Sirius agreed.

They both stared at each other for a little while longer before surging forward, mouths clumsily knocking against one another.

“Finally!” a third year yelled from the couch. “Does this mean I can eat my eggs without you too drooling over one another?”

They answered that by stumbling right back out of common room, no doubt to find somewhere more secluded to kiss again. Peter let out a low whistle to follow them, catching sight of Remus’s half-grin flashing back at him.

“Well, the mission was a success, Petie,” James said as the portrait door closed shut.

Peter nodded. “Yeah.” He stretched as much as he could with James’s heavy weight on his side. “Check my essay now?”

“Uh, yeah,” James said. He took a hold of Peter’s parchment, glancing once at it and then back up the stairs. “Um, can we go up to the dorm? It’s kinda loud in here.”

“Sure,” Peter grunted, shifting out of the chair.

A nervous look had ignited in James’s eyes now but he gestured loosely with his shoulders and they set off, easing up the staircase to their dorm. Peter pushed the door open, about ready to step through when James caught his wrist.

He stopped and turned. James was right up against him. “Um, I just remembered-” He paused for a second and then glanced up. “Mistletoe.”

Peter blinked then glanced up himself. A twig of green was hung over the doorway right above them. It was soft almost, dangling over his head delicately. He frowned. “Oh.” He didn’t remember putting one there. Only in the portrait hole and in the classroom doorways.

“Yeah.” James licked his lips, still looking agitated and nervous. “Guess we have to kiss now.”

“Well, it can just be on the cheek, you know. It doesn’t have to be on the lips,” Peter said quickly. “’Cause you did charm them like that, remember?”

“Would-” James swallowed, the sound audible in the almost deafening quiet of the dorm and stairway. “I mean, would you be uncomfortable? If we did do it on the lips?”

Peter’s heartbeat soared, blood rushing loud and pounding in his ears. “Um, no?” He shook his head and said more firmly, “No. I wouldn’t.”

“Then we should- we should stick to tradition, right?” James asked.

Peter nodded rapidly. “Yes. We- we should.”

“Okay.” James glanced up at the mistletoe again.

They didn’t move or do anything for a good five seconds. Slowly Peter reached up to cup the side of James’s face. James jerked, head coming down and eyes wide. He looked much like a deer in headlights, caught off guard and scared.

Peter tilted his head up and James ducked his head down. They met each other halfway.

They kissed.

It wasn’t as warm or as soft as Peter was expecting. James’s lips were somewhat chapped and still cold from the outside. His face was lightly damp from the snow and rain. But in it, there was still a pleasantness coiling that felt warm and soft and buzzed through Peter like a splash of firewhiskey.

Peter’s other hand reached up, cupping the other side of James’s face to bring him down closer. Both of James’s hands curved over Peter’s sides, fingers pressing in lightly and pulling him closer. Peter leaned into it, absentmindedly sucking in his gut when he bumped into James’s much flatter and nicer chest.

James pulled away. “Don’t.” He squeezed Peter’s side. “I don’t- I don’t care.”

Peter shrugged. “Habit,” he muttered, dropping his hands from James’s face. He could feel the charm roll off him and shifted his feet nervously. “Let’s, uh, let’s- My essay?”

James stepped away just as Peter shifted and turned around. “Right. The essay.”

Peter’s heart was still pounding when he sprawled out on his bed, feeling the mattress dip and give way as James settled on the edge, back to him. He watched James as he read. Watched his shoulders shift up ever so slightly with every breath and felt something odd swirl in the pit of his stomach. Something he couldn’t name or understand. Something he probably should’ve thought about just to be able to name it or understand it.

He closed his eyes and buried his face in his sheets instead.

 

* * *

**FIFTH** **YEAR**

 A crush.

He had a _crush_. On James. Potter. His best friend (though not as best as Remus but still best enough).

Peter sunk into his chair and then melted out onto the floor.

He hated everything.

“Pete?” Remus murmured. Gently his foot nudged Peter’s dead and dying body. When Peter didn’t move, he straight-out kicked him and then ducked his head under the table to stare at him. “Peter? What’s wrong?”

Peter frowned and flopped out onto his back, grimacing at the sight of all the gum stuffed under the table. “Say, hypothetically of course, I went and fell for someone very close to me but highly out of my league. What would you suggest I do?” he asked, glancing at Remus.

“Well, for starters, I’d suggest getting off the floor,” Remus replied dryly.

Peter scowled and went back to staring at the underside of the table. Remus sighed and crawled under with him. Sprawling out on his belly, Remus tucked his hands under his chin and eyed Peter. “Who is it?”

“I don’t want to say.”

“Peter,” Remus whined, poking him. “Who?”

Peter huffed. “Um, Sirius.”

Remus levelled his eyes at him. “That’s my boyfriend.”

“Right,” Peter said slowly, closing his eyes. “I’m trying to steal him from you and I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Pet his hair or his fur and call him good,” Remus snorted. “That’s how I win all our arguments, anyway.”

“Really? I just throw something or give him something shiny,” Peter said. He frowned. “You know, it’s awfully weird how throwing things worked even before we were Animagi.”

Remus swatted at him. “ _Shh_.”

Peter winced. “Sorry.”

Remus shook his head and waved the apology off. “So who’re you _really_ thinking about smooching, Wormtail?”

Peter frowned. “Um…” His mind scattered all over the place, screeching for names and then- “Lily.” He took a deep breath. “I like Lily. Evans.”

Suspicion glowed in his eyes as he levelled them at Peter. “Doesn’t _James_ have a crush on her too?”

“Yes,” Peter said, squirming uncomfortably. “Which is _why_ I… don’t know what to do.”

Remus frowned more. “I thought you said that this person was _close_ to you?”

“She is!” Peter protested. “Sort of? We kissed once.”

“What?” Remus shrieked, shoving up so hard he slammed the back of his head into the table. “ _Ah, fuck_.”

“And that’s why I take time to process information,” Peter sighed and rolled out of reach of Remus’s fists. “Don’t hit, don’t hit!” He glanced out into the open. “We should go. Prince is coming over.”

They rolled out from under the table and grabbed their things, skirting out of the library while Madam Prince shouted obscenities and about the wonderful, world of _silence_ to them. Ducking into an empty hallway, Peter paused to shove his things into his bag.

Remus eyed him, his books tucked under his arm. “Okay, so you and Lily kissed once, _which-_ ” And he waggled his free hand at Peter. “-you are explaining later, but now you like her.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. He shrugged. “She’s just so…” James’s pretty brown eyes and dark skin fluttered into his mind, a whirlwind of fluffy hair and secret smiles. “ _Gorgeous,_ ” he sighed, slumping against the wall. A grin slid past his shackled, awkward and loose, like his mouth was broken from sheer _love_. He shook his head rapidly. “But! I don’t want to stop being friends with hi- _her_. You know, by doing something stupid.”

Remus quirked an eyebrow but said nothing to Peter’s stutter. “ _Okay_. Well, I’d say talk to James first.” Remus shrugged a little helplessly. “He likes Lily too and if you ask her out and she says yes, you don’t want him to get upset about it.”

“ _Right_ ,” Peter said, eyes a little wide, mind a little annoyed. Why did everything always fall back on _talking_ to James? This was a hypothetical and it still wound up there! “Talk to James. About… about Lily.” He scratched his nose. “Well, it’s just a crush, so- so it doesn’t mean anything. It’ll go away.” He nodded assuredly. “I don’t have to say anything.”

“Peter.”

“Moony.” To Remus’s unmoving stare, Peter shrugged. “It _is_ just a crush and I _will_ get over it and if I don’t, I’ll talk to James!” He smiled crookedly. “I promise.”

Remus relaxed and shifted his stare to the space in front of them. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Peter said and they started walking towards the dorms. After a few silent seconds, Peter cleared his throat. “So what, um, what do you think James sees in Lily?”

“I dunno,” Remus said after a moment of thought. “He probably likes her tenacity. He’s always comparing her to a flame.” Remus frowned. “Though, that might just be because of her hair.” He glanced down at Peter, eyes full of _thoughts_. “Why?”

“No reason,” Peter said quickly. “Just curious.”

“What do you see in Lily?”

“She’s pretty,” Peter said nd that was true. Lily was a very pretty girl and Peter harbored a minor crush on her for a while in their first year. “And smart.” He sighed, trying to think of ways in which to link her and James together. They were fairly similar. “Brave,” he said, thinking of James’s steadfast Gryffindor heart and the way Lily charged at the giant squid when it snatched Mary up by accident that one time. “I like that she’s brave.”

James was a Gryffindor. He was meant for it in a way that other people could never be. Bravery and heart and determination sunk into his bones. They leeched into his skin. It was all embedded into him, into his core.

He was brave.

And Peter loved him for it.

Love.

Peter swallowed thickly. _Oh_. “And, er, I like that she’s nice and she’s pretty and smart and kind. And she’s got nice skin.” He rubbed his face, trying to snap his thoughts from James and _love_. “Yeah, so that’s it.”

“Okay,” Remus said loftily. He bumped Peter’s side teasingly. “You know, I think she’d like you too, mate.”

Peter laughed tonelessly, the sound bleeding out of his ears and an array of James’s past loves fluttered through his mind. None of them were like Peter. All of them tall and gorgeous. _Brilliant_.

Brave.

No fear.

James liked Lily because of her bright hair and tenacity. Peter couldn’t be tenacious if he tried.

“I don’t- I don’t think so, Moony,” he said quietly.

“You’d never know unless you ask,” Remus pointed out.

Peter nodded slowly. “I don’t think I’m going to. Like I said.” He took a breath and smiled low, thinking once more of James’s pretty brown eyes because that always got him grinning like a madman. “It’s just a crush.”

 

* * *

**SIXTH** **YEAR**

“Pete?”

Peter glanced up at the voice. James’s messy hair and wide brown eyes glimmered at him in the low moonlight. James’s teeth were tugging sharply at his bottom lip, worried.

“You okay?” James whispered.

“Yeah,” Peter said hoarsely. “Why?”

“I dunno,” James murmured, slipping into the bed beside him. “You’ve been kinda quiet all day and you didn’t.” James sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, hand fluttering up and scraping through his hair. “You didn’t stick around after dinner. You just went to bed.” James frowned. “I thought it might be something to do with the news this morning.”

Over a hundred dead.

They’d just found the bodies.

Children.

Muggleborn children and their parents violently tortured before being _slaughtered_. Like they were cattle. Like they were _nothing_.

And then left to bake and rot and wilt away in the middle of nowhere.

Peter’d seen the teachers whispering amongst each other the first day and he remembered how _small_ this new group of first years had been compared to the last and how names had been called and how some didn’t stumble forward.

Because they didn’t make it.

Because they got grabbed up while they were shifting down Diagon Alley or because they got stolen as they tried to find their way to Hogwarts.

Peter gripped his sheets and willed back his tears.

Some Death Eater had been caught, Peter couldn’t remember the name in the article and the foggy haze in his brain wouldn’t let him, but he’d been caught and he’d _laughed,_ apparently. Laughed when he told them about the _kids_ , about their parents. Giggled about how they screamed and _begged_.

He didn’t try to fight them.

Just let them _drag_ him off while he shouted about the crime to any willing ear.

It made sense.

Voldemort didn’t seem to like it when his more gruesome crimes went unnoticed. And the violent tortured _deaths_ of just under eighty children seemed to be padding that list.

“I’m fine,” Peter whispered.

He wasn’t. Life was so fleeting. So _ridiculously_ fleeting and in a second, it could all be gone. _Everything_ … just vanished. Up in smoke… and blood… and _unending, horrific_ _screams_.

“I’m fine,” Peter whispered again because those thoughts must’ve been showing harsh on his face. James was eying him reproachfully.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Peter choked out.

James frowned. “So why do I think you’re lying?”

Peter shook his head. “James-”

“Peter,” James interrupted sternly. “Are you okay?”

Peter kept shaking his head, not sure if he was trying to brush James off or if he was admitting to _not_ being okay. “I- I-” His breaths choked and he _did not_ want to be sobbing in front of James. Remus, maybe. James? Sirius? _Merlin, no_.

They were all so put together. They felt intensely but didn’t show it in whimpering ways. They were tough and strong and Peter was such a baby but Remus, and only ever Remus, was so understanding about the way Peter’s emotions tumbled inside of him, boiling and bubbling and spilling out in gasping heaves of breath and wimpy, wet rainfalls of tears.

Sirius didn’t understand how to counteract sadness, couldn’t do much more than vague pats on the back and curling against someone, whining lowly as a dog. James was even more awkward. Tears made him jumpy. Crying made him flee.

But it didn’t matter anymore because Peter was sobbing, hand to his mouth, eyes squeezed shut and James whispering gently at him, being softer than Peter knew he was possible of being.

“Let it out, Petie,” he murmured, cradling Peter into his arms. “I got you. I got you.”

“They were so _young_ ,” Peter moaned. He gripped James’s shirt, buried his weepy, wet face into James’s chest. “They- they didn’t- didn’t-” He swallowed down his heaving gasps. “They _didn’t deserve it_.”

“I know,” James whispered. His voice broke. “I _know_.”

“We’re gonna die,” Peter whispered. He shuddered brokenly. “I can’t-”

James pulled Peter tighter to his chest. “You’re not going to die,” James said and he sounded so ridiculously _determined_ about that. “I won’t let that happen, Peter. Not to _any_ of you.”

“You _can’t_ \- _you can’t-_ ” Peter gasped deeply and sniffled. “You can’t _promise-_ ”

“But I am,” James huffed. “I’m promising it. It’s done. You’re gonna live forever. Remus is gonna live forever. Sirius-” He paused. “Well, Sirius is probably going to die from eating something he shouldn’t but I’ll figure out a way to bring him back.”

Peter laughed tonelessly and sighed. “Do you ever _think_ before you talk, James?”

“I’m offended you would ask that,” James murmured, brushing back Peter’s hair. “You should know by now that I _don’t_.”

Peter peeled away from him and let his body fall flat backwards to his bed once more. James snatched a few spare tissues and shoved them at Peter who took them, grateful. He blew his nose twice before chucking the used tissue into the trash and rubbing his face, exhausted.

He was starting to understand why babies slept so much. Crying was just so draining.

James was still watching him. Peter frowned and looked away.

“Do you ever realize how pointless everything is?” he asked after a moment. Confused, James raised an eyebrow and Peter sighed. “We are fleeting. Life is exhausting and every day we live to die.”

“That’s… morbid,” James murmured, sinking down beside him.

“Everything is,” Peter whispered and the realization of it all stuck into him like an arrow through the heart. “Nothing matters. We live to die at the end of the day and nothing good comes of us afterwards. We _rot_ and decompose and at the end of the day-” He flattened his hand against his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut tight and shaking. “ _-we don’t matter_.”

“Peter,” James whispered, stroking through his hair. “Everyone matters.”

“No,” Peter shook his head. “Nothing does. No one does.” He released a trembling breath. James shifted closer to him, tugging him into his chest. “I’m so tired of children _dying_.”

“I know.” James kissed the side of his head, murmuring into his hair. “I am too. But we’re gonna stop it. We’re gonna make it end, make _him_ end, and _no one_ will _hurt_ anymore”

Peter squeezed his hands together. “I don’t know if I _can_ ,” he confessed. It was a cracking thought in his head, had been there for _months_. Ever since McGongall sat him down and asked him what he wanted to do once he graduated.

Peter didn’t know. He didn’t have a _clue_ about his future, wasn’t even sure if he _had_ one, what with the War and inevitable. So he latched onto what the others had been discussing. An Auror. By sheer luck, he had grades well enough for it and McGonagall, though surprised, enrolled him in the necessary courses.

But Peter wasn’t a fighting man. He didn’t like the raw slick of violence, didn’t like the way anger pounded in him sometimes, didn’t like _hurting_ or making people _hurt_. There was something sick about the weird string of glee he got every once in a while when someone he didn’t like was punished viscerally but at the end of the day, Peter wasn’t made for fighting.

He wasn’t made to be brave.

Sometimes he still heard the whispering call of the Sorting Hat telling him where to go and how he’d find himself _regretting_ his choice of Gryffindor.

Peter was starting to think he always had.

“There are so many _different_ things to do then fighting on the front lines,” James assured him. “Management of evidence. Interrogation.” He squeezed Peter’s shaking hands. “You’re bloody fantastic at _that_. Remember Sirius and the missing cookie.”

“You have to fight,” Peter said, ignoring James’s attempt at changing the topic of conversation. Peter’s voice cracked. “ _Eventually_.” He gripped James’s hand, dug his nails into James’s fleshy palm and shuddered. “Mortality. It’s fragile. Everything about us is fragile. Made to be snapped, to be broken.” His voice snapped and he hissed, voice shuddering, body shaking and the feeling of overwhelming rage coursing through him, “ _Can he even be broken_?”

“Peter-”

“We can’t _fight_ , James. We can’t even pretend. We’re _sixteen_.” He grit his teeth. “We’re mortals and we’ve raised him up to be a _god_.” Peter swallowed thickly. “You can’t _fight_ God.”

James pulled Peter into him. “Peter, Peter, listen to me. It’s gonna be okay. We’re going to be fine, _I promise_.” He stroked Peter’s back. “And I _will_ fight this God of yours. I’ll punch Him in the dick.”

“ _James-_ ”

“ _Peter_.” James grinned loosely, that chipped smile of his, watery and scared of not being _enough_. “I’d _die_ for you. Any of you.” He squeezed Peter gently. “You know I would.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better,” Peter hissed, shoving back and swatting at his chest. James shifted uncomfortably underneath him but Peter ignored that. “You can’t! Stop being _self-less_ , James. That’s not fair!”

“I didn’t mean it like that!” James protested, slipping up and catching Peter’s hands. “I just. I meant.” His voice broke off and he frowned. “I love you,” he said after a quite moment and there was a stretch of silence, burning endlessly into the room.

“I know that,” Peter whispered and James seemed to melt in front of him but he wasn’t sure _why_. “I know you love us and we love you and that’s _why_ you can’t say things like that, James. It’s not fair to the people who _can’t_ _live_ …” He exhaled on the word, eyes squeezing shut. “Why would we want you to die for us?”

“Peter,” James started, “I’m not planning on sacrificing myself right now. But given the chance, I’d sooner face Voldemort without a wand and twenty feet away from him, then let anything happen to anyone I love.” He pressed a slow kiss to Peter’s forehead. “That’s just how I am.”

“You need to stop being like that then.”

James snorted and Peter shook. Slowly, James slid back down, tugging Peter down with him. “Sorry,” he sighed. “Being reckless and Gryffindor brave is in my blood.”

“Merlin,” Peter muttered but he smiled into James’s chest and tried to remember how to feel calm. After a few seconds of wispy silence, he asked, “Don’t you ever get scared?”

“All the time,” James admitted after a beat. His hand stilled on the middle of Peter’s back. “But I keep going because it’s the only thing you can do. You can’t let fear incapacitate you, Peter. You can’t let it control you. You have to move.”

He brushed back Peter’s hair. His fingers stroked, long and thin down Peter’s cheek to his chin and tilted his wet face upwards. James’s eyes were steely serious, full of all that Gryffindor courage and determination that Peter wished so deeply he could have.

“Even if you’re moving backwards, you have to _move.”_ He bit his lip for a hot second, eyes flashing all kinds of worry and nerves for the briefest moment. “Otherwise fear will swallow you whole and you’ll never-” He paused and swallowed thickly. “You can’t do the things you want to do, if you’re scared of everything, Peter. Even if you’re terrified to your bones.”

“Speaking from experience there, mate?” Peter asked quietly because James sounded _far_ too deep for it to have been something spoken off the top of his head, no experience or deep thinking set into it.

After a slow beat, James sighed, “Sort of.” His fingers feathered back through Peter’s hair. “Pete…”

“Mmm?” Peter hummed lazily, a slow feeling of exhausted calm seeping into him. Nerves still strangled him but it was the regular shift of anxiety he was already used to.

James shifted and tugged Peter up until they were face to face, Peter still sprawled out on James’s chest. “Do you-” He paused. Nervousness slung around him before, eyes fluttering shut, he laughed, short and tonelessly, and shook his head. “Do you feel better now?”

“Sort of,” Peter muttered. “I’m still…”

“Scared,” James finished for him.

Peter nodded loosely, eyes squeezing shut. The world was moving so fast around him but cuddled next to James everything was slowing down, not quite manageable but giving him space to breathe. “Yes.”

James curled his arms around Peter’s waist and pulled him in close. “It’s okay,” he whispered gently. “I’ll protect you.”

                                                                          

* * *

 

 

 **SEVENTH** **YEAR**

Peter was doing nothing of real importance but the moment Lily came bustling around the corner, he jerked up and faked thick intrigue in the book in front of him. It probably would have worked if he hadn’t looked like he was trying to slide out of his seat and if the book hadn’t been upside down.

She’d been on their asses for a solid month. James’s birthday was fast approaching and according to Sirius’s cryptic warnings, she was trying to recruit them into helping her find a gift. Remus had managed to escape, citing busyness with his current studies and the fact that he was _also_ still trying to find a gift for James. He’d brushed her off onto Sirius, who had apparently informed Remus that he’d gotten James a birthday gift during the last Hogsmeade outing. Sirius had manage to escape her determined grasp by noting that it’d be poor of her to get Sirius to go out shopping with her when he could accidentally let it slip what she got him because of how much Sirius and James told each other.

Which left Peter. Who was currently hiding in the library and had been since the week before when Sirius cornered him after Potions and warned him of Lily’s inevitable charge after him.

He’d been on high alert for Lily’s presence since then, not so much because of the gift issue but more because of _her_.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Lily. He did. He _really_ did.

But she was dating James. And James was in love with her.

So it was a bit of a sour bite to Peter’s crush that she wanted to hang around him _talking_ about James for hours.

“Peter!” she called out breathlessly as she marched over to his sinking form.

He slipped off the chair and banged his head against the table. “Lily,” he groaned, standing up and holding his forehead.

“Mmm,” she hummed, eyes darting around his face before peering deeply into his eyes. “I don’t have to explain what I’m doing here, do I?”

Peter shook his head before glancing at the wall. “But, um, Lily, I don’t really think that I’d be much help. I’m not good at picking out gifts.”

She frowned. “Well, what did you get him?”

The compass Peter had hand-made and charmed himself ticked weighty in his pocket. “A comb,” he lied, smiling gently. Lily bit her lip and he shrugged. “See? Best thing I could think of.”

“Then we can _both_ find something better for him,” Lily insisted. “I’m rubbish at gift-giving too but I’m excellent at knowing what people like.” Peter frowned at her and she rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. “I tend to be too picky,” she confessed. “So nothing really gets picked until the last minute and I worry too much about what I select.” She gestured at him. “That’s why I thought you three would be helpful. You _know_ James.”

She rolled her eyes. “But you all seem to think I’m some sort of a stressful evil.”

“Oh, we don’t think that,” Peter said. He patted her shoulder. “We know you are.”

She gave him a look and swatted at him. “Please, help me,” she said. “I really want to get him something good and meaningful.”

“A comb?” Peter suggested as he turned and began packing up his things.

“Peter, I am not getting James a comb. We’ve been dating a six months, not six days,” Lily snarked bitterly.

“And it’s because you’ve only been dating six months that you probably shouldn’t worry about _meaning_.” Peter shoved his books into his bag and winced as something smashed inside. “Meaningful gifts are for a year or longer, at the least. Like with me and Mary.”

“Mary’s a lesbian.”

Peter ignored her. “I gave Mary a very nice card for Christmas and then for her birthday I gave her a plum and then at Christmas the next year, I got her an even nicer card where I signed it with the word “love” rather than the word “from”!” He swung his bag over his head, felt it thud dully against his side and nodded sharply at her.

Lily stared at him. “You got Mary a plum for her birthday?”

“I was eleven,” he grumbled, feeling ink leak onto his pants. “I didn’t have a disposable income to buy extravagant gifts. But, also, consider that further proof of my poor gift-giving ability.” He nodded at her once more. “Goodbye.”

He stalked off quickly, diving through a crowd of first years and around a hidden corner. He ducked up a flight of stairs, maneuvered through two empty classrooms, down two flights of stairs and through door pretending to be a wall into an empty corridor. He glanced behind himself and relaxed before looking ahead.

Lily was at the end of the corridor like an omen, hair flaring out and eyes _set_ , breathing deeply as she marched towards him with _vigor_.

He sighed. “You’re not going to give me any other choice but to help you, are you?”

“No,” she said, grabbing his hand and marching off with him in tow. “Let’s go think.”

\--

They had been in Hogsmeade since the day had begun and they were supposed to be back in just under an hour. Yet Lily _still_ hadn’t figured out what to get him and strain of time seemed to just make her more and more indecisive and upset.

“What if you got him a box of chocolates?” Peter suggested.

She chewed at her lips, eyes worrying red and shook her head rapidly. “You get people _chocolate_ if they _love_ it and- and for _Valentine’s Day_.” She rubbed her face, on the edge of tears. “ _Not for their birthdays_.”

“James loves chocolate!” Peter protested, terrified because he’d only seen Lily cry _once_ and it had not gone well for him. Lily sniffled and shot him a look. “He does!”

She released a broken sigh. “I just- he’s doing so _well_. Laying off the pranks and not _hurting_ anyone.” Peter thought vaguely of Snape’s blackening and bruised face that morning and the ointment James had been pouring on his hands the night before and thought it best not to say anything to that. “I wanted something to show I _appreciate_ his efforts.”

“His efforts at not being a prat?” Peter asked. He snorted. “Yeah, I think _not_ being a prat is something a person shouldn’t have to put _effort_ into, Lily.”

She rubbed her face. _“I know_.”

“And either way, chocolate is very appreciative!”

“ _Peter_ ,” she moaned, slumping against the wall of the post office. Tears were already slipping down her reddened cheeks, infrequent but visibly shiny. “I’m going to be the worst girlfriend _ever_.”

Peter bit his lip, not sure how to detract from that. In his pocket, the compass beat harsh and steady. He wrapped his hand around it and sighed before pulling his hand out and scratching his arm. “James, is going to _love_ whatever you get him. He’s not a picky person. If you got him coupons for hugs, he’d probably cry happiness.”

Lily scowled. “At this rate, coupons are the only thing I’ll be able to get him,” she whispered. She groaned and covered her face. “ _Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhh_.”

Somehow the compass’s steady beat sounded loud and harsh in Peter’s head, when he knew full well he couldn’t actually hear it. No, that was just his damned conscious trying to convince him of what to do, of what was _right_ , his own feelings and needs be fucked.

He sighed.

Why couldn’t he just be an asshole and not care about other people’s feelings all the time?

“Here,” he said stiffly. He rummaged through his pocket, pulling out the compass and brandishing it at her.

Lily, eyes wide and wet, glanced down at his outstretched hand. “What-”

“It’s a compass,” he said quickly. “I, uh, I made it. For James.” He popped it open and they watched for a few seconds as the arrow within it spun rapidly around. “I just wanted him to be able to find his way back to us, if he got lost.” The arrow stopped sharply on Lily. “He can find you, if he loses his way home.”

“Peter, I can’t take this.” Lily took a step back. “It’s _your_ gift.”

He shrugged. “I want you to. He’ll like it and it has _meaning_.” Her eyes worried wide at him. He smiled gently. “Take it, Lily. I want you to give it to him.”

“Peter-”

He shook his head, cutting her off and gently grabbing her arm. “It only works for those it’s been given to. There’s no magic words behind that. You just give it to him with all intention for him to use it and it’ll work only for him, unless he gives it back. It can find anything or any person that isn’t shrouded in magic so long as he considers it home.” He frowned as he dropped it into her palm. “Or if it’s a shelter.”

“No chance of Voldemort then?” Lily teased gently.

Peter shook his head again. “No, I’m not smart enough to figure out something like that.”

Lily frowned. “You made this. On your own,” she started slowly. Her fingers curled around it. “I’ve never heard of any charm to do that, Peter.” Her eyes softened and she held the compass close to her chest. “I think that makes you plenty smart.”

He shrugged. “It’s probably written down somewhere,” he said, rubbing his face because, well, that was the _only_ explanation. “I just didn’t find it.”

Peter was not like his friends. He wasn’t like James or Sirius or Remus or even Mary. He was average at _best_. The concept of _him_ creating a spell to do anything was ridiculous. It was probably just a simple spell that was not often used and therefore not often taught.

“It has other things too,” he said before Lily could object to him being stupidly average. “Um, if he says, “Help”, it finds non-magic items what can help him, for like schoolwork and stuff.” Peter scratched his nose. “If there’s like a Fidelius Charm on it but he has the password or whatever, it works just fine too.”

She eyed him. “It can get past a Fidelius Charm?”

“ _Only_ if the owner knows the location.”

“Peter, that’s… that’s _serious_ magic,” she said, awed.

Peter shrugged. “Anyone could’ve done it,” he said, as though he didn’t spend _hours_ researching, _months_ without sleep just trying to convene _any_ spell to do at least one of the things he wanted. But see that was the thing. Peter had to research, had to _search,_ had to _look_. Anyone with half a brain would’ve been able to find or come up with more spells than he had. “It was simple.”

Peter wasn’t… _smart_. Or average.

Despite what his OWLs insisted, Peter was much stupider than most people. He knew that from the way teachers frowned at him when they saw him tagging behind his friends, from the way they wrote “try harder” on his essays. From the way people whispered rudely about him, confused and amazed that someone so dumb could be friends with people so magnificently intelligent like Remus, Sirius and James.

Lily shouldn’t have been in awe of him.

And the fact that she was, was… a little disparaging. Like she thought he was _worth_ something, _had_ something.

Peter had nothing.

He was a rat. Weasel-ly, ugly and revolting. And rats, in the long run, were nothing. Stags were majestic. Dogs were loved. Werewolves were powerful.

Rats were small. Pointless. Useless except in small situations.

Like Peter.

His thoughts must’ve displayed on his face because suddenly Lily was frowning at him. The grimace of disappointment, Mary had coined it.

It really was.

Lily chewed at her lip. “You know, you _are_ smart, right?” she prompted. “Remus said you got Exceeds Expectations in all your OWLs.” She cocked her head slightly. “ _And_ you’re in all NEWT level classes so you’ve _must’ve_ done _well_.”

Peter swallowed thickly. “Luck,” he said. His voice broke against the word and he winced.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Peter-”

“Lily,” he cut in, “I, um, the stuff the compass does, I wrote it all down. It’s in the dormitories.” He licked his lips and looked away from her sharp gaze. “Let’s head back.”

“Peter,” she tried but he cowered away from her and hurried down the street.

\--

Rabid and rapid, James tore open his gifts. In all their years of trying, neither Remus nor Peter had quite managed to stomp that habit. James seemed to have a _fetish_ for tearing open wrapping paper.

If anything, he definitely enjoyed it more than receiving the actual _gift_.

“Yes!” he crowed, clutching in his hands a well-worn copy of the unfinished and final edition of The Ravaging Witch.

The Ravaging Witch was a five part series, the last part having gone unfinished due to the author’s untimely death. The unfinished manuscript was discovered and most of it had been transcribed into legible words and a sum-up of where the series was going. Unfortunately, only five copies of the last book had ever been made. After their creation, the author’s family cited the author’s contractual agreement stating that no one was to continue their series in the event of their death and had the transcription burned, keeping one copy for themselves and selling the rest to the highest bidders.

James had been crying about the series to them ever since he discovered it that Easter and he’d been whining nonstop about wishing he could find one of the copies of the final book.

James slung his arms around Sirius’s shoulders, kissing Sirius’s cheek wet and hard.  Afterwards he went back to staring at the cover like it was something holy. “Where did you _find_ it?”

Sirius shrugged. “My family had a copy,” he said with ease but his eyes fell low and twisted to Peter. “I just had to talk Regulus into getting it for me.”

Peter bumped Sirius’s hand with his own and Sirius squeezed Peter’s wrist loosely. A silent agreement. They’d discuss that meeting later.

“Thank you,” James said, stroking the book like it was something precious, never to be harmed and always loved.

Sirius smiled, softly. “No problem, mate.”

“Okay, well, before you start making love to paper,” Remus began, sweeping the piles of wrapping paper into the corner with a swift flick of his wand, “you’ve still got other presents to open.”

James’s eyes lit up. “Right!” He placed the book gingerly on his bedside table and leaned forward across his bed, eager. “Who’s next?”

Lily snorted but passed him her box. Nervously she tugged at her fingertips as he tore into the wrapping paper. The compass had been tucked in a box, wrapped twice over, stuffed in a bag which was wrapped tight in another slew of wrapping paper which was put into a final box which was filled with bubble wrap and covered in three layers of wrapping paper.

Peter was confident that James probably had an erection at this point, his gift-opening fetish _alive_. He wondered vaguely if Lily knew about it, and if so, _how?_

Flipping open the final box, James gazed down at the compass and beside him, Peter heard Lily give a hard swallow. In an effort to the make gift more _hers_ , they’d adjusted the designs that swarmed the compass, took out the specialty use factor simply because there was a ninety-nine percent chance the compass would get shared between James and Sirius who shared everything down to their socks and cuddling Remus, put a chain on the end of it for James to wear it around his neck, turned the point of the arrow into a small little lion and, after a bout of quick research, added a function that, upon the utterance of the word “Want”, pointed the viewer in the direction of whatever they wanted most, so long as it wasn’t covered or hidden in magic.

James picked it up gingerly and Lily shifted agitated. “Do you like it?”

He stared at it softly. “Yes, its lovely, Lily, thank you.”

“It- it has _spells_. On it.” She rubbed the back of her neck, face lit red with loving embarrassment. “The list is underneath.”

James didn’t go back to the box, just flipped the compass over and grinned. “To find your way home,” he read out. His thumb curved over the etched in words and everything about him seemed softer.

Peter relaxed. James liked the gift. Lily wasn’t nervously pulling out her hair in stress any more.

Everything was good.

Reading over the list of functions, James grinned. “So I can’t find Voldemort then?”

“Nah,” Lily sighed, swooping down and kissing his cheek. “Couldn’t figure that out.”

James smiled wide and caught her round the neck before she could step away. “May I?” he asked because he could be a prick but he was a _gentleman_.

She snorted but kissed him chaste and quick. Even so, Mary threw a stream of wrapping paper at them. “Oi, no one wants to see that.”

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed loudly before turning over and sloppily trying to kiss Remus. Barely, Remus ducked away and all Sirius managed was to lick his neck, which, given that it was _Sirius_ , probably wasn’t much of a difference.

Mary chucked one of the boxes at them and it bounced off Sirius’s head.

James snorted and glanced at Peter. “Present?” he drawled, reaching for the gift in Peter’s hand.

Sighing, Peter passed it over while Lily moved away to grab the box and push Mary off to the side before she could throw anything else at Sirius.

James tore into the gift, loosely wrapped, and got a wrapping paper bouncing in his hair. Brushing it off, he eyed what laid inside. “It’s… a comb?” He held the comb between his fingertips and frowned. “You know, the last time you gave me a comb it exploded pink glitter all over my face.”

Peter scratched his cheek, refusing to meet James’s eyes. “Did it? I don’t recall…”

James snorted but brushed back his hair. It didn’t stay down. Instead his hair seemed to grow wilder and more frantic. The more he brushed, the more it flushed out from his head, springy and wild. Remus bit his lip, clutching his hands into tight fists, and Sirius swirled around, mumbling something about wrapping paper, the widest grin on his face.

Yeah, Peter could be a dick sometimes.

Lily cleared her throat. “James. James.” She shook her head subtly and he raised an eyebrow.

Patting his head and looking at his hand, he said, “Did it just turn my hair pink?”

Mary scratched her lip. “Eh, no but-” She fished a pocket mirror from her pockets. “Here.”

James took a moment, eyed himself and turned to Peter, voice full of emotion. “I love you so much.”

Peter snorted, rolled his eyes. There was nothing James liked better about himself than his wild head of hair. Half the time when it looked _neat_ , it was only because Sirius pinned James down and _brushed_ it that day.

“Don’t get soppy on me,” Peter said, grinning.

“You’re so good to me,” James whispered. He pulled Peter into a tight hug and squashed his cheek against the top of Peter’s head. “I love it.”

“You’re happy he made you look insane,” Mary said, deadpanned.

“Yes,” James replied tartly, huffing at her. “I look beautiful.”

“You look a mess,” Mary snarked back.

“Shh, Mary,” Peter said, snatching the comb and brushing it through James’s hair. Pink sparked wherever he ran it through. When he stopped combing, James’s hair was completely streaked pink. “He looks amazing.”

“It’s pink now, isn’t it?” James whispered as everyone rolled their eyes and moved off towards the door.

“Yeah, the effects change with every new use,” Peter murmured. “Wears off after a few hours.”

James ducked his head against Peter’s collarbone. “I still like it.”

“I know,” Peter sighed. He brushed out the end of James’s hair, watching the hair curl into ringlets with every stroke.

James melted into him. “Mmm, love you.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Okay, James. Just because I’m petting you doesn’t mean you have swoon over me.”

James laughed gently with him and gripped the compass hung round his neck with his free hand.

“Oi, you two lovebirds planning on coming to lunch with us or should we put a sock on the door?” Sirius drawled, hanging off of Lily’s back.

Peter rolled his eyes, ducking out of James’s arms. He wiggled the comb in the air. “You know, _Black_ , I think you could use a quick comb.”

Sirius pointed at him. “You wouldn’t _dare_.”

Peter shrugged. “Let’s find out, yeah?”

Sirius swore, tried to dart away but Lily gripped his arm and swung him back into Peter, who locked Sirius under him and shlung the comb right through Sirius’s _luxurious_ hair. It stained a streak of bright red all the way down.

An anguished cry rolled out of Sirius’s mouth. Peter shifted off of him and eyed the masterpiece.

“You’ve destroyed me,” Sirius whispered, a few red hairs gripped loose between his fingertips. Letting them fall away, he prodded Peter right in the stomach. “We’re enemies now.”

“Sure,” Peter said, patting Sirius’s face.

“I think you look decent, Siri,” Mary said, smirking. “Unique.”

Sirius scowled at the nickname. “Excuse _you_. I’ve always been unique.”

“Do it again,” Mary egged and Peter combed out another flush of hair to Sirius’s squawking indignation.

The hair fuzzed out, turning frizzy and green. Sirius snatched the comb and chucked it at James before grabbing Peter’s face. “Cease.”

Peter licked Sirius’s hand. Revolted, Sirius pulled back, wiping his slicked hand on Mary’s thigh. “Disgusting,” he proclaimed.

“You are,” Peter agreed.

It took a bit for that to settle into Sirius’s head, everyone else giggling quietly while he paused to figure out what about that statement sounded _wrong_. When it clicked, he gaped at Peter. “You such a shit, Wormtail.”

Peter snorted. “Well, you drool on everything, Padfoot.”

“I do not!”

“You do,” Remus said, leaning against the doorway. “It’s why none of us will cuddle with you anymore.”

“That-” James grunted, shoving off the bed and slipping into his shoes. “-and the kicking.”

“Yelling nonsensical things,” Peter added.

“Getting covered in mounds of fu-hair,” Remus said, coughing over the “hair”.

Sirius scowled. “You know I can’t help that.”

“What about the death grip?” Remus prompted. “The giant squid has a gentler touch than you do.”

“And it probably doesn’t fondle people as much,” James said.

“Or give sloppy half-asleep neck kisses,” Peter added, elbow on Sirius’s chest and hand on his own cheek.

“I-”

“What about that time you called me David and slapped me?”

“Or the time you had a nightmare about spiders and nearly beat me half to death with a pillow?”

“Or the six times you hugged me and said that if you were drowning, I had to drown too?”

Sirius’s pale face was tinged red and behind them everyone was laughing. Peter smirked. Under him, Sirius huffed. “First of all, it’s a death grip of _love_. Second, I fondled you _once_ James-”

“Seventeen times,” James corrected with a lazy swipe of his comb through his hair.

Mary snorted.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He prodded Peter. “I thought you were Remus.”

“You said my name!” Peter protested hotly.

“Lies and slander,” Sirius said swiftly.

“You said my name,” Peter repeated, rolling his eyes. “You said “my Petie-Pete” and then _licked_ my neck!”

Sirius was wide-eyed and quiet for half a second before he said, “Whatever” and rolled out from under Peter. He pointed at Remus. “David is an asshole from a dream and he needed to be slapped.” He turned to James. “I thought you _were_ a spider and-” He pressed his hands to Peter’s cheeks and squeezed gently. “-we’re soulmates, Wormie. You _have_ to die with me.”

Peter screwed up his face. “Sounds gross.”

“I hate you.”

“Um, not to break your little moment,” Mary interrupted, clearing her throat. “But Peter is my soulmate. We’ve been friends the longest.” She batted her eyes and pressed her hand to her chest. “I was his first kiss.”

Remus shrugged. “We’ve been best friends far longer than any of you have known him so I think Peter should be my soulmate.”

“Those who prank together, love together,” Sirius said solemnly. Suddenly Peter was curved tight into Sirius’s chest. “I won’t let you steal him from me.”

“He turned your hair red,” Lily pointed out. “And green. And _frizzy_.”

“Proof of our _love_ ,” Sirius drawled. He eyed Remus. “Moony, I’m leaving you for Wormtail.”

“What if I leave you for him first?” Remus shot back and Peter was trying to figure out _how_ they got to this point.

“You can’t do that, I’ve already left!”

“Who’s to say he even wants you?”

“Of course, he wants me! He thinks my hair is sexy!”

“Yeah! When we were _eleven_!”

Lily cleared her throat. “Boys, boys. Calm down!” She gestured at Peter. “Peter, who do _you_ pick?”

 _James_ , he thought and the name almost flitted through his mouth, as immediate as the thought. Luckily, he managed to clamp it down and throw it out, frowning in pretend thought. “Mary,” he decided after a moment.

Mary clapped her hands rapidly. “Suck it, losers!”

Sirius scowled. “She wasn’t even an option!”

“But _Peter_ , I thought you loved me?” Remus whined.

“I- I do- _Sirius, lemme go-”_ Peter wrestled his way out of Sirius’s arms and wrapped his arm around Remus. “I do. But frankly, I think Mary would be the better choice because otherwise she might _kill_ you to get me.”

Mary snapped her fingers. “I would.”

Peter nodded, patting Remus’s sad face. “Yeah, so let’s stop focusing on this weird hypothetical and go back to celebrating James’s birthday.”

Remus snorted. “Okay, okay.” He dropped into Peter’s side, just like when they were young and could fit into each other like puzzle pieces. “Let’s get lunch.” He glanced up at James, who was hovering around his bed still. “You coming, James?”

“In a minute,” he said. “Just gonna put my things away.”

“I’ll help,” Peter offered and James smiled loosely.

The others filed out of the room quickly and then they were alone. Peter relaxed his shoulders and picked the comb off the ground. He pulled out the drawer of James’s bedside table and dropped it in. When he turned around, James was still in the same spot, watching his compass.

It was open in his palm and the whirs of the gears clicking together sounded almost as silent as a whisper in the room. Finally, the whirring stopped and James smiled gently at it before clicking the compass shut and tucking it into his pocket.

“It’s a nice gift,” Peter said. “Thoughtful.”

“Very,” James agreed and Peter felt pleased. He rubbed his arms. “So, you and Mary are dating now?” he teased.

“Shuddup,” Peter laughed. “Fastest way to stop the whining.”

“It’s funny, innit?” James prompted, watching Peter so carefully that he felt stuck. “How many times they’ve fought over you?”

“I guess,” Peter muttered. “I mean, it’s just a joke.”

James shrugged. “I know.” He cocked his head. “If _I_ was an option, though, would you still choose Mary?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “James.”

“What?” he protested, laughter sliding on the edges of his voice. “It’s a valid question, Wormie. I never get to fight over you.”

“You can’t come up with valid reasons why I’m your soulmate,” Peter snorted.

James rolled his eyes. “You could still pick me.”

Frowning, Peter crossed his arms. “I don’t understand why this matters.”

“I just want to know.” James took a step closer. “If you had to pick, would you choose me?”

“I-” Peter’s voice broke off and he glanced at the door. “I’m not- Lily-”

“Doesn’t matter,” James said fiercely. “I’m not dating her in this scenario. So if you had the option, if you could choose any of us to date, who would you pick?”

 _You._ “Everyone?”

“Peter.” James nudged him gently. “It’s my birthday. Give me one non-prank gift, yeah?”

Peter scratched his arm. “You, I guess,” he said lamely, not meeting James’s eyes.

James relaxed. “Yeah?”

Peter sighed. “Yes, James. I’d pick you. But!” He poked James in the chest. “Only because we don’t have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah,” Peter said easily, the thoughts flowing quickly. He was always the best out of them for fast-talking. “Me and Sirius do our best pranks together and Remus and I are best friends but you and me, we don’t have anything that’s just us. Being boyfriends, I guess, would change that.”

James wilted a little. “Oh,” he said, tucking both hands into his pockets. “So if we did have a thing, then-”

“Then I’d pick Mary again,” Peter said firmly. He added a sharp nod to prove how _serious_ he was.

James chewed at his lip. “So then there’s nothing that I could do to make you _want_ to date me?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “James, you already have a _gorgeous_ girlfriend and you’ve long since had a flock of desperate men and women who _wish_ they were your girlfriend.” He shook his head. “I am not adding to your ego. It’s already oversized.”

James snorted. “I’m just curious. All the people you’ve dated have been so different. What makes you want them?”

“Well, wanting me back tends to be a good trait,” Peter sighed. He tugged his wand out of his pocket and flicked it loosely. The wrapping paper stuffed in the corner flattened out and folded into itself. “Haven’t really thought much past that.”

No, he really hadn’t. Thinking about why he fell for certain people usually led to him thinking about why he fell for James and frankly, that was dangerous territory. Besides, it didn’t really matter. Once he liked someone, he liked them until he didn’t. As long as he didn’t act on the more dangerous propositions, he was fine.

“C’mon, James,” he said quickly, dropping Remus’s broom care kit into James’s suitcase. “We should probably head out. Or Sirius will have eaten all the food.”

James laughed. “Right.” He tugged his compass out of his pocket. “Wait, wait. I wanna see how well it works.”

“James, you know where the Great Hall is.” Peter wrung his wrists. “Plus, I don’t think it works with finding food.”

“So?” James huffed. He slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and tugged him in close. “I wanna test it out.” He cleared his throat and pressed his thumb to the knob again. “Want.”

Peter snuck a peek at the open compass and saw the arrow pointing at him, pointing North. He sighed. “See? Doesn’t work with finding food.” An oversight. He should’ve added that. Or suggested it to Lily when she was considering what to add, at least. Merlin, he was stupid. He ducked out from under James’s arm. “Let’s go.”

James sighed as he clicked his compass shut and tucked it back into his pocket. “Maybe it’s just not completely clear what I want.”

Peter shrugged as he swung open the door. “Maybe not.”

 

* * *

**WAR**

He looked sick.

He looked sick and like he was dying, dark rings under his eyes and his skin pale. It’d been growing paler with every passing day. The stress was draining him. The panic was draining him. It stole the life out him.

Voldemort had grinned wickedly when he presented him with James and Lily’s hiding spot.

And Peter’s heart had snapped like a twig, crumbling like dust the moment he left and the sudden understanding of what just happened slammed into him like a freight train. And he couldn’t take it back. He couldn’t take it back, couldn’t reverse time and stop himself from speaking if he’d tried, if he’d broken into the Ministry and stole all their time-turners.

He couldn’t take it back.

And they were going to die.

He dropped to his knees in the Potter’s bathroom, hand over his mouth to muffle his quaking sobs. Lily was in their bedroom, having just put Harry down to sleep and getting some of her own but James was still awake, restless and uneasy from being all cooped up. He’d been more than excited when Peter showed up just to check on them.

“Pete?” James called just as Peter released a dry cry that cracked up his throat and sputtered out like a dying engine. “You okay?”

Peter inhaled deeply, forcing back the terror that was threatening to spill out of him. “Yes,” he said, quietly and shaky. He cleared his throat. “I’m-I ’m fine, James.”

In another world, James would’ve believed him. As trusting as he was, he would’ve accepted it and walked off to wait for Peter to creep out, face washed and cleared off blotchy sadness. They would’ve talked about the war, would’ve talked about Remus, talked about Sirius, about Lily, Harry. Anything that could come to mind and then Peter would leave through the front door for the last time and he’d never see James or Lily again.

This was not that world.

The door shook once, the rattling of the doorknob being the only warning Peter had before James slipped inside. He crouched beside Peter and pulled his hands back.

His eyes were concerned, his lips pulled back in a familiar, worried frown. His voice was soft and wanting when he asked, “Wormie, what’s wrong?”

Peter trembled. “Nothing,” he protested as tears welled up at the back of his eyes. His voice cracked as he went on. “Everything’s fine.”

“Peter,” James said. “What happened?”

“Noth-”

James’s eyes levelled at him. “Peter.”

Peter swallowed. And it spilled out of him. “I did something bad, James. Something unforgivable.” James didn’t ask what, watching Peter carefully. He still held Peter’s hands. He still trusted him. Peter shook, looking away. “I’ve-” He gasped hoarsely, the words lodged in his throat. “I’ve been working for- for-” He broke off, couldn’t finish and James dropped Peter’s hands abruptly. Beside him, James shot up, looming high and over Peter who was shaking against the tiled floor.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, standing up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t- I couldn’t-”

“Stop,” James said, eyes focused everywhere else but Peter’s face. “Just.” He swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Don’t move.”

He vanished out of the door, pulling it shut tight behind him. Peter didn’t move. Merlin, he wanted to. He needed it. It ached in his bones to run but he couldn’t.

He didn’t want James to hate him anymore than he already did. And besides, he was scum. They should’ve done away with him a long time ago.

It was hours before James came back, an angered tremor rumbling over him. He didn’t look at Peter, curled in a ball in the tub. Just opened the door and gestured outwards. Peter got up, the movement stiff. He crept past James, pausing when Dumbledore wasn’t glowering at him. When Remus wasn’t watching him with hard eyes and Sirius wasn’t gazing at him, betrayed. The whole of the Order should’ve been there to watch him burn and yet it was just him and James.

Alone.

Peter inhaled deeply. Of course, James would want to take his aggressions out on Peter first before handing him over to the Order. That made perfect sense. Peter had just risked the lives of him, his wife and his son.

And James could never stand idly by while the people he cared about got hurt. Of course, he’d have trouble being calm with the fact that Peter had basically threatened to kill them.

Peter was a coward. At his heart, at his core, that’s what he was. A fearful coward.

He turned slowly to face James, whose eyes were dark and simmering.

Peter was a coward but Merlin be damned if he was going to die as one.

“Peter,” James began and then stopped. After a beat, he took a step forward and Peter let his eyes fall shut, ready for whatever was coming. “Peter, look at me.” Scared and his heart hammering, Peter did. The anger had receded somewhat from James’s face, blending into pained exhaustion. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie, Peter. You know that. I know that.” James rubbed the side of his face, weary. “Just- why? Why would you-”

“I’m not strong like you, James,” Peter whispered.

“He couldn’t torture it from you, Peter,” James snapped, voice hard. “He couldn’t take it from you by force. You had to give it up to him willingly, you had to _want_ to, and I want to know _why._ Just-” He let out a broken noise, dragging his hands down his face slow like he could wipe the remains of Peter’s betrayal off him. “I thought you cared about us.”

“I do!”

“Then why-”

“Because no one cares about me!” Peter shouted, squeezing his eyes shut. Something in him snapped and he shuddered, sinking to his knees, head bowed. “ _I just-_ ” His whole body shook. “I just wanted to feel useful for once. _Needed_.”

“And what?” James said, voice breathy with anger. “You thought siding with Voldemort would _help_? You thought he’d _care_ about you? Like we did?”

A strange burst of anger burned hot in Peter’s chest. “James,” he began, testily.

“No, no. I understand. Your friends who’ve loved you and cared for you for ten years don’t matter in the face of being used by an insane wizard who’d no sooner cut off your right hand before he’d respect you.”

Pete shot up, shoving himself into James’s space. “Sirius thinks Remus is the spy!” he spat. “Remus thinks it’s Sirius! They’re gone and you’re in hiding! AND I WAS ALONE!” He shoved James, hard enough to rock him but not enough to move him. He shoved him again. “ _I was alone_! _I didn’t have anyone who loved me_! No one cares enough to tell me it’s going to be okay and _you were all gone!_ ”

“Then why bother telling me?” James shouted, shoving Peter back. “ _WHY DID YOU EVEN BOTHER TO COME BACK THEN?_ ”

“BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, YOU BLOODY MORON!” he screamed and the words had torn out his chest, taking with them all the rage and anger he was feeling, leaving him empty and scared. He wilted back. “I have been in love with you since we got stuck under the mistletoe.” With one hand, he rubbed his face, covering his head. “Voldemort used that against me. He said you’d all known and thought it funny. And I- I was weak, James. Everyone else is getting married and falling in love and being happy and me-” He dropped his hand. “I’ve been in love with the same idiot for seven years.” His voice shook. “ _I’m alone_.”

James was staring at him. That stupid deer in headlights look for the billionth time and it still made Peter’s heart gleam with feelings he couldn’t quite place. Except for one. The blooming, burning love.

And then James was on him, mouth pressing against his, hard and insisting. He licked into Peter’s mouth, one hand tangling up in his hair and the other curling around his back to pull him tight into James’s chest. Again, on instinct, Peter sucked in his gut and James pulled back, murmuring, “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

Peter blinked, understanding dawning over him through the haze of _“Holy fuck, James just snogged me_ ”.

He slapped James across the face.

James stumbled back, holding the side of his face while Peter yelled at him, “WHAT THE FUCK? YOU’RE MARRIED!”

Because that’s what made sense right now. Not that James had just _snogged_ him but the fact that he was _married_. To Lily. Evans. Who didn’t really get jealous so much as she got _even_.

Oh. That’s how he was going to die. Not at hands of the Order for betraying them or at the hands of Voldemort for betraying _him_ but by the hands of Lily for snogging her husband.

Dear Merlin, his life was a train wreck.

“Peter-” James tried but Peter was already halfway into a meltdown.

“Lily’s going to kill me. She’s going to kill me for snogging you and then she’s going to bring me back and kill me for siding with Voldemort,” he moaned into his hands. “She’s going to kill me two times and that’s _not fair_.”

“Peter!” James urged, grabbing Peter’s wrists and pulling his hands away. “Deep breaths.”

“Why did you-”

“Because you may have loved me for seven years but I’ve loved you for ten,” James murmured.

Peter squinted at him. Maybe he was dreaming. “ _What?_ ”

“I’ve known that I’ve loved you since first year,” James said patiently. “It was after Christmas break and you and Remus were telling us all the funny things that had happened at the castle while we were gone. And then the lighting sort of shifted and you were smiling and laughing and I just thought you looked like a cute, chubby, little angel. And I thought to myself that I loved you. And I meant it.” He kissed the top of Peter’s confused head. “Still do,” he murmured.

Peter frowned further. “ _What?_ ”

“I’m in love with you,” James clarified with a laugh edging in his voice. “Pissed as hell because of the whole Voldemort thing but I still love you.”

“ _You’re married_ ,” Peter reminded him.

James snorted. “You can love more than one person at the same time.”

“But why would you want to love me?” Peter asked. “I’m- I’m not even-”

“You try. It’s what I’ve always admired. You try your hardest even when it’s not necessary. And you’re soft,” James said, poking at Peter’s side. “And I don’t know. I just do.”

Peter looked at him. “You’re shitting me, right? This is a joke.”

James shook his head. “No. I’ve never joked about liking someone, Peter.”

“You- you never said anything.”

James licked his lips, moving to run his hand through his hair with nervous energy. “I didn’t know how at first and then-” He sighed wistfully. “And then you never seemed interested? So I didn’t bother. I didn’t want to risk it.” He narrowed his eyes and prodded Peter playfully in the side. “You never said anything either!”

Peter swallowed. “The ratio of beautiful people being attracted to me is one out of a billion, James. It didn’t seem likely.”

“So we’re both morons then,” James concluded, pulling Peter back into him. “C’mon. Lily has some things she wants to say to you.”

“Protect me?” Peter asked, voice muffled by James’s shirt.

“Always,” James agreed.

 

* * *

**EPILOGUE**

Harry hung off James’s arm, green eyes glancing eagerly at the masses. James was giving a lecture about safety and being smart while Lily was rolling her eyes behind him. She caught Peter watching her and smirked, mouthing, “Hypocrite” over her husband’s shoulder.

Peter snorted. He watched the other children briefly before a tug on his pants caught his attention. Squatting to Harry’s height, he smiled at him. “Yes?”

Harry’s eyes darted between his parents and Peter before he gestured softly to the side with his head. Nodding in understanding, Peter stood up and looked James and Lilly both seriously in the eyes. “Harry and I have important business to discuss. Excuse us.”

Harry laughed and took Peter’s hand, letting Peter guide him to a quieter, a tad more secluded spot of the station. Peter squatted to Harry’s height again.

The boy with his mother’s wide green eyes and his father’s unruly black hair and a teething bite to his lip he picked up from Peter eyed the ground gently. Across his forehead sat a jagged scar in the form of a lightning bolt, the only remnant of the attack Voldemort had put on his life. Tired of hiding, tired of being scared, Lily had emerged to battle him. James had run to her side almost immediately.

And when the dust had risen in the air, lights flaring, enraged screams from both sides tearing the air, Peter had come, Harry tucked into his chest. It’d been a mistake. He’d been trying to get Harry somewhere safer, but his mind was too stuck on James and Lily, too stuck on worrying.

Too stuck on not being there, on not being brave.

On not being trusted.

Voldemort had seen them when they’d arrived, swirling into view. He’d seen them.

Peter remembered the green light, the way it shot at them.

He remembered the way it hit Harry.

And he remembered feeling nothing but white-hot intense love for the child he held and the people who had birthed him as he turned and tried to shield Harry from view, from the curse.

He didn’t know why it didn’t work. Why neither of them weren’t dead. Why the spell had rebounded back and hit Voldemort square in his sinister chest. But a scar burnt long over Peter’s arm where the curse had grazed him and a scar sat jagged on Harry’s head where it had hit. It was a reminder to Peter of what bravery could do.

Of what courage was capable of.

Saving lives.

He glanced to the side at James and Lily talking low to each other, hands on Harry’s cart.

Saving love.

He looked back to Harry, who was thumbing his palm nervously. “Harry?” he asked.

Harry sighed and looked up at Peter, eyes wide but firm. “What if they don’t like me for me?”

“They will,” Peter said.

Harry frowned. “What if something _bad_ happens?” he prompted. “Like with the snakes?”

The snakes.

A Parseltongue, no one in James’s or Peter’s family had ever been and yet Harry had conversed with the snakes quietly at the stores, so sure in his tone, so sure in his words, when he told the store owner point-blank that the viper in the tank against the window did not like the bright lights from the outside or the fact that its mice were always dead when it was fed.

When asked how he knew that he’d simply stated, eyes bright and sure, “It told me.”

Lily had been worried. James had been scared.

Peter had been calm.

He was calm now. He would always be, as best as he could, calm for Harry. “The snakes were not a bad thing, Harry,” he said slowly, taking Harry’s hands in his. “If they were, do you think your parents would have let me get you one?”

He had. Even as Harry’s eyes had dulled in the light of the terror that overtook the storeowner’s face, even as he had trembled when Lily quickly asked him how he knew what the snake had been saying and James had shifted around the store, agitated and glowering at anything that hissed.

He had gotten Harry a small snake, one that could twist in between his fingers and curl around his arm. It was green like Harry’s eyes and shimmered in the light. Harry had loved Peeps, almost as much as he loved Hedwig, the snow-white owl Hagrid and Sirius had presented him with at his eleventh birthday as the _traditional_ pet that every wizard deserved.

Peter had “accidentally” thrown a plate a cake at Sirius’s face for that remark.

Harry sighed deeply. “I suppose not,” he said patiently, scuffing at the ground with his foot.

“And if the snakes were a bad thing, do you think that Dumbledore would let you bring Peeps to school?”

Harry frowned, eyebrows furrowed in the same way Lily’s did when someone pointed out the rationality she had missed while overthinking something. “No,” he muttered. He sighed. “What if they think I’m weird?”

Yes, Harry had “technically” saved the Wizarding World and yes, he was famous. But that didn’t mean people knew anything about him. His family kept him out of the public eye as best they could, kept him out of the limelight and the screaming spotlight that tried to pinpoint his whereabouts every second of every day.

They wanted him to grow up average and happy, delving into the things he liked without confusion or bigoted hate spewing back at him.

So no one knew about Harry’s ability to whisper to a snake and have it whisper back or that fact that sometimes his scar burned with red-hot pain that made him cry.

Peter glanced back at James and Lily and at Hedwig content in her cage. Wound around her in a loose coil was Peeps, glimmering green in the sunlight. People whispered when they saw her and frowned as their eyes shifted between Lily and James, not understanding the connection between the Aurors who helped saved the world and the creature whose species had been prized by the man they worked so hard to defeat.

Peter looked back at Harry who was watching the crowds with a nervous tremble that didn’t suit him. He thought about Remus and the sickliness that deepened in his skin, the way he’d nervously taken his first sip of the Wolfsbane potion. He thought about Remus and their earlier days, the hissing snarl of his voice and the broken cries that spit out of him, looming high above Peter’s tiny form.

He thought about the nights he spent pouring over books well above his age-level, just to learn all he could about his best friend.

“The people who matter won’t think you’re weird,” Peter said easily, pulling Harry’s attention back to him. “They’ll think you’re cool.”

“How do you know?”

“Because,” Peter started, frowning. He paused. “Well, it’s easy. You’re going to find people who like you for you and not your name. And they’re going to be proud of you, like I am and like your mum is and your dad. And when you find them, you’re going to do _great_ things with them. So great that the bad things can’t touch you.”

Harry smiled a half-smile for a few seconds before it snapped and fizzled out. “How do I find them?”

There were a few things that Peter shared with Harry even if they weren’t related. They both liked cheese. They both liked riding around on Sirius when he was a dog. They liked mucking about in snow. They liked cuddling on top of Lily and they liked smothering James. They were easily put off by loud noises and they both had never truly made a friend in their younger years, Harry due to his fame and recognition and Peter due to his nerves and general underwhelming-ness.

Peter tucked sprouts of Harry’s hair behind his ear and smiled softly. “You don’t find them, Harry. You just realize one day that they’re going to be there for you. Through and through, until the end of the world and then on.”

“But what if I don’t?” he questioned seriously. “What if I never find anyone until it’s too late?” His eyes darted rapidly across Peter’s face. “What if I mess up and I can’t fix it in time?”

That was another trait they shared. The fear of loneliness. The fear of isolation.

The fear of being left behind.

Peter squeezed Harry’s hands and shook his head. “It’s never too late,” he whispered. “Never ever. I promise you that.”

It had taken a lot to earn back the trust of the Order, not to mention the trust of his friends and he worried that he’d never quite managed to get it all back, still worried that they were just stewing in their anger and faking it.

But he’d tried and in the end that’s all he could do.

Peter sighed and stood, stretching the ache out of his legs. “Here’s the truth, Harry,” he began sternly. “You are going to mess up when you have friends. You will do things that upset them and they will do things that upset you. Some days you’re going to be alone and some days you’ll be surrounded by so many people it’ll feel suffocating.

But you’re going to be loved in a way that you’ve never been loved before. They’re going to care about you in a way that your mum and your dad and I can’t,” Peter laughed. “You’re going to tell them everything and they’ll tell you everything and it will be _the best_.”

He brushed back Harry’s hair with his palm, smiling softly. “You just have to be brave.”

Harry nodded. There was a determined air about him, one that didn’t fit James and had never graced Lily. It wasn’t the same kind of determination Sirius got or the kind that Remus had.

It was Peter’s.

There weren’t many things that Peter could teach Harry that anyone else couldn’t teach him in a better and much more effective way. But the ability to _try,_ even when things seemed hopeless or terrifying, that’s what Peter had taught him and it had stuck far better than he could’ve ever imagined.

Harry’s hand tucked into his but before they could take a step forward back to Lily and James, Harry tugged.

Peter looked down at him. Harry’s eyes were trained on Hedwig and Peeps. Finally he turned to look up at Peter again, eyes brimming with nervous energy again. “Do you think they’ll be mad if I don’t get into Gryffindor?”

Well, that stumped him. Peter shrugged. “Not too sure there, Harry. But I’ll be proud.” He squeezed Harry’s hand reassuringly. “No matter where you go, I’ll be proud.”

Because here was the secret that Peter wouldn’t tell anyone except the scared but oh-so-ready boy beside him if Harry deigned to ask. He was not destined for Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat would sit on his head and tell him that. And Peter knew because when he looked at Harry, he saw the green that glittered in his eyes, _wanting_. He saw the need to prove himself, the need to live up to his name.

The need to be the _best_ he could be.

He saw himself, small and nervous. And he remembered how the Hat had sat on his head and whispered that Slytherin would be right for him, right for what he wanted to be, what he wanted to do. But Remus was in Gryffindor and Peter didn’t want to be alone. So he went with the second option offered up to him, the next choice the Hat had suggested for him.

Because of above all else, Peter wanted to be brave. Harry did too. Anyone, blind or not, could see that Harry wanted to be strong.

But that need to be strong, that desire to be brave, that’s what made them both Slytherin at heart.

Harry squeezed his hand. “Okay,” he said, like he’d made his choice.

Peter nodded and they walked back to Lily and James, who greeted the two of them with nervous smiles.

Lily took Harry’s hand. “Ready?”

He nodded and let them guide him to the doorway. He took his things, Hedwig’s cage tucked under his arm and gripping his luggage tightly. He breathed slowly, eying the doorway and trembling.

James opened his mouth to say something but Peter shook his head and shooed them both to the side.  He crouched beside Harry. “I believe in you,” he said quietly. “You’re going to do fine.”

“I know,” Harry said but he still shook, staring into the train. “I’m just…”

“Scared.”

Harry nodded. So far his life had been limited. So far his life had been small.

Now he was venturing out somewhat on his own. It was a different journey that he was used to and the earliness of their arrival meant he could tremble where he stood, the understanding of this world meant he could think about how much he had to do, to _be_.

And Peter understood that kind of stress.

He kissed the top of Harry’s head. “Be good. Be kind.”

“Be brave,” Harry whispered, nodding.

“And remember,” Peter continued. “No matter where you end up, I’ll be proud.”

“Even if I’m a badger?” Harry laughed.

“Even if you’re a badger,” Peter said. “A badger or a lion or an eagle or a snake or nothing at all, I’ll be proud. Promise.”

Harry looked down at Peeps. “What if I _want_ to be a snake?”

“Then you be a snake. You be the best darn snake and beat all the other snakes,” Peter said, prodding Harry while he laughed. “Be a good snake though.”

Harry bit his lip. “I will.”

“Good,” Peter said sternly. “Because I’ve been bad enough to last this family three lifetimes. We don’t need you doing anything stupid too.” He tapped Harry’s nose, then curved his palm over the back of Hary’s head and pulled him forward for a chaste kiss to the ragged scar on his head. “Be a good snake.”

Harry nodded. “I will be a good snake,” he repeated. He peeked over at his parents who were indiscreetly trying to listen in on the conversation. Harry dropped his voice. “Can you tell them for me?”

“Of course,” Peter said. “But you have to give me a Newt Scamander card.”

Harry scowled but Peter thought that was a fair trade, given that Harry had ten of those cards and Peter had zero to complete his collection with.

“Fine,” Harry sighed sullenly. He finally stepped onto the train. James and Lily came back over. “Bye.”

“Remember to write us about the ceremony!” Lily said.

“Yeah, and don’t do anything silly,” James said. “Do not go into the Forbidden Forest. Do not try to ride the giant squid.”

“James,” Lily sighed exasperatedly because a light had lit up in Harry’s eyes.

“Safety and responsibility is important,” James protested, not seeming to notice the fact that his _biological_ son was now full of ideas of what he _could_ do if he happened to be bored.

“Just be good,” Lily said.

Harry nodded rapidly. “I will. I won’t. I won’t. I will.”

“Oh, you,” Lily sighed, taking a step onto the train doorway to smother him in a tight hug.

“Love you, Mum,” Harry said, voice muffled. When Lily stepped away from him, sinking into Peter’s arms, Harry nodded at his dad. “Love you too, Dad.” He looked at Peter, eyes loving like his mum, hair a mess like his dad and a determination about him that came from Peter. “Love you too, Papa.”

Peter smiled softly and waved good-bye, taking Lily by the hand and dragging James away as he kept yelling out what to do and what _not_ to do.

“You’re just giving him ideas, you know,” Peter said as they shifted through the barrier.

James went quiet before hissing, “ _Shit_.”

“Mmm,” Lily murmured.

“Why didn’t you stop me?” James demanded, panic edging his voice as he seemed about ready to run back and hijack the train.

“I refuse to be a hypocrite,” Peter said, a pompous edge to his voice that made Lily snort and James whine into his neck.

“And _I_ think he’ll be fine,” Lily said. “Luckily, he only takes after you in _hair_ so I doubt he’ll want to go skinny-dipping with the giant squid any time soon.”

“It’s good hair,” James agreed. “And that was a smart idea when I was thinking of it.”

“Very good hair and a stupid idea both in planning and execution,” Lily said, grabbing his hand and kissing the back of it. “He’ll be set, James. He’s a good boy.” She turned to Peter and grabbed his hand, smiling. “What do you think, Peter? He’ll be fine.”

“Well, as fine as a Potter could be in Slytherin,” Peter said nonchalantly, looking away from the two of them.

Lily nodded pleasantly and James hummed in agreement. They were halfway to the car when the words hit.

“Wait, what?” James said, pausing. He let go of Lily and grabbed Peter. “ _Slytherin_? _”_

Peter glanced between Lily and James. Lily didn’t seem nonplussed in the slightest. Not a simmer of change or bother about her. Peter looked back at James.

“He’s considering it.”

“It was the damn snake, wasn’t it?” James muttered easing off with a shift of Lily’s hands. “I knew the snake would be a bad influence.”

Peter rolled his eyes and slid into the passenger seat, James exiled to the back as per the usual since his impulse control didn’t stop him from pressing all the buttons available. Lily settled into the driver’s seat, revving the engine and backing out of the car park.

“I don’t know,” Peter said. He looked at Lily who was smiling ever so slightly at the road. “It’s just something he said he was thinking about.”

“Did you tell him it was a bad idea?”

Peter shook his head.

“James, seatbelt,” Lily prompted before James could say anything else.

For a few seconds, it was quiet, James rooting around for the plug which had been squashed into the seat so deep it took him twenty seconds to tug it out. He buckled in and scowled. “Why didn’t you tell him it was a bad idea?”

“Because it’s not,” Lily said. She smiled into the mirror, grinning wide and James’s pouting face. “He wants things, James. Things being noble can’t always grant you. But he has _morals_. He has beliefs. He won’t do the wrong thing and he’ll be smart about his choices.”

James somehow had managed to sprawl out along the backseats, feet against the window and arms crossed. “I can’t believe my son is thinking about being a dirty snake.” His frown deepened. “We’re gonna need new furniture.”

“Why?” Peter sputtered as Lily frowned. Obviously, she hadn’t assumed this would be the change in conversation either.

“Because nothing we have is _green_ ,” James said, brandishing his hands wildly. “How are we supposed to make him feel at home if everything is Gryffindor-ly red?”

“We don’t even know if he’ll get into Slytherin,” Peter protested because it had been _hell_ just to get James to decide on a _couch_ when he insisted they needed to find somewhere new to live for the four of them, with all new things that was just _theirs_.

It had taken an actual _year_ to get all the furniture they currently had in the _living room_. They hadn’t had a proper bed for about a month because he kept insisting none of the options were good enough.

Dear Merlin, Peter was starting to hope Harry chose against Slytherin.

“You’re right,” James agreed. “We’ll have to wait until he tells us.”

Lily and Peter relaxed, just the slightest, and the drive home was soft and pleasant, small conversation about the day.

It was just past two when they got home. Wearily, Lily shifted out of the car and inside the house. Peter collected their bags from the back, glancing at James who was just watching him, a curious look on his face.

“Why didn’t you urge him against it?” he prompted and Peter sighed.

“Allow me one secret, won’t you?” he muttered, shuffling past and settling their groceries on the counter. Lily’s sweater was thrown over a chair and he could hear her moving around on the floor above, the bed creaking with her weight. The telly turned on in the living room.

He began unpacking the bags, James’s eyes still trained on him like a deadly hawk watching its meek prey.

“Secrets are dangerous, Pete,” James said but he didn’t push any further, simply slipped behind Peter and wrapped his arms around his waist, burying his face in Peter’s neck. “For the record though, I’ve always thought you looked good in _green_. It’s definitely your colour.”

Peter snorted. “Is that so?”

“Mmm,” James hummed, kissing up his cheek. “But I always preferred you in _red_.”

Peter’s breath hitched. “Yeah?”

James nuzzled him some more, sucking wetly on his shoulder. “But I think my favourite colour is no colour,” he whispered hotly and Peter laughed. James was never the best at dirty talk. “What do you say, Wormie? No kid around.”

“No Sirius,” Peter agreed.

“Just us,” James murmured.

“I’m offended,” Lily called out to them from the staircase, eyes laughing even if her face was stern.

“Us and a Lily,” Peter corrected and James laughed, gesturing to his wife.

“Us and a Lily,” he agreed, sling an around Lily’s shoulder. He kissed her cheek and she leaned into Peter’s side.

“Mmm, you boys have fun,” she said, shifting open the refrigerator door and waving her wand. The bags of groceries slid up the counter and to her. “This Lily is going to make a pie.”

Peter couldn’t really focus on that too much to ask what type, though the question was sitting in his head. James eagerly dragged him up the stairs, feet flying and happy. Pictures of their family hung on the walls everywhere. They smiled at him.

They grinned.

Ahead of him, the boy he’d met when he was nervously tucked into Remus’s side was grinning wildly at him and the boy he’d loved since they’d kissed under the mistletoe so many years ago was laughing with him.

James Potter was a strange man. He was a trusting person and loving soul and even when everyone urged him against it, he’d still continued to love a person who had betrayed him.

Peter had spent years rebuilding that trust, proving himself again and again and _trying_. And that was what James had fallen in love with.

Because when all else failed, Peter tried.

Because when all else failed, Peter was brave.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that as much as I liked writing it.
> 
> Just FYI, I am usually always up for requests and prompts on my [tumblr.](http://www.happyk44.tumblr.com/)


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